


Don't Be Afraid to Be Weak (Don't Be Too Proud to Be Strong)

by ChloeNyme



Series: Through This World I've Stumbled [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anxiety, Attempted Kidnapping, Broken Bones, College, Consensual Sex, Deaf, Deaf Clint Barton, Dissociation, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Genius Peter Parker, Hospitalization, Hurt Michelle Jones, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Sexual Abuse (not explicit), Sexual Content, Tony Stark Has A Heart, they're both a bit broken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-09-15 13:52:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16934454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeNyme/pseuds/ChloeNyme
Summary: Five times where Peter and MJ help each other, and one time where they don’t need to.





	1. Snapshot

**Author's Note:**

> So I think this is going to be the last installment in this series. But I'm going to go out with a bang by making it a multi-chapter fic. Each chapter is a one-shot and can potentially stand alone (chapters aren't in chronological order). Tags will be updated with each post.
> 
> At this point, you do not need to read the other installments for this fic, but it would help. There are chapters that are based off of events in other installments - I'll leave a warning in the notes when that is the case. 
> 
> Title taken from Return to Innocence by Enigma. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

 

MJ loved this part of the day. When the sun had set hours prior, leaving a thick darkness that enveloped the city. Of course it was never truly dark. The occasional streetlight still illuminated the major routes, and there were a few insomniacs like her meandering the streets. But it was the closest it ever got to quiet in New York, and she loved every minute of it.

 

Unfortunately, Peter was not quite on her time schedule. After an evening of Spider-Manning and a belly full of pasta from their local Italian place that was open until two, Peter was barely upright next to her as they slowly wandered back to his and his aunt’s apartment. That didn’t stop him from trying to finish his story about his day with Mr. Stark in between yawns.

 

“And then the repulsion…system glitched…so that’s going to be another day or two.”

 

Peter attempted to sound put out by the broken equipment, but MJ still heard his delight underneath it. Nerds and their toys.

 

Peter loudly yawned again, his story slowly trailing off. MJ felt bad, but she was only half listening anyway, getting lost in her own thoughts as they made their way down the dark street.

 

They were only a few blocks away when Peter suddenly straightened and grabbed her arm. Without warning, he pushed her into the alley beside them. She barely had a chance to exclaim her surprise when a dark van with no headlights ran over the sidewalk. As if expecting the intrusion, Peter easily avoided the impact, jumping onto its hood as it screeched to a halt.

 

“MJ! Get out of here!” he called out, barely risking a glace over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the van.

 

No fucking way. She may not run head first into danger, but there was no way she was going to leave. This was clearly planned, which meant they knew who Peter was. Which meant they were in deep shit. MJ took a few steps back into the shadows and reached into her purse for her phone.

 

The next few seconds happened too quickly for it to feel real. Men quickly poured out of the van, all dressed in black and too many to count. They swarmed around Peter, each of them fighting simultaneously to subdue him.

 

Hand to hand combat was never Peter’s strong suit, preferring to rely on his web shooters. Initially MJ thought it was because Peter was never an aggressive person and probably didn’t know how to throw a proper punch. But the first time watching him fight through his live feed quickly debunked that theory. She realized shortly afterwards that it was much more likely Peter was too concerned about accidently harming the other person with his brute strength. She wasn’t even sure how one would train to control a punch enough to incapacitate a person but not pulverize them with the strength of a truck.

 

Peter was working his through the throng of men, but they never seemed to stay down for too long. It wouldn’t take long for him to be overpowered, and if that happened they were both well and truly fucked.

 

MJ quickly unlocked her phone, its screen illuminating the dark corner she was standing in. Without thought, she quickly opened her contacts.

 

“No!!” she heard Peter shout. She whipped her head up to see Peter being held back by multiple men and a man in front holding a gun pointed at her face. In her panic, she barely had the wherewithal to register the sound of the gun cocking. Peter surged up and kicked the man forcibly in the back just before the shot rang out.

 

Pain immediately blossomed through MJ’s chest, taking her breath away. The moment the air left her lungs, it seemed impossible to bring it back. Gasping, she fell to the ground, hearing Peter scream something unintelligible. She looked up to see another man plunge a needle in Peter’s neck.

 

Breathing continued to be impossible, her airway cloyed with something thick and tasting of iron. She brought her hand to her chest to try to alleviate the pain. She glanced at her other hand still holding her unlocked phone. Without thought, she became aware of the random Russian, maybe Ukrainian, definitely something Eastern European, echoing over her. Goddammit she didn’t have time to figure out the language, she was focusing on the wrong fucking thing. Peter was being dragged into the van behind him and she was lying in the alleyway completely and utterly useless to stop any of it.

 

She should call 911. She knew she should call 911. But they wouldn’t get here in time to help Peter, so she also knew she had to do something else first.  Looking back at her phone, she shakily opened the camera app and pointed it at the van, the phone’s side resting on the ground. Hearing the car doors slam, she slid her phone into position and took a picture of the license plate. Ignoring the choking sound echoing around her, she shared the picture in a message and scrolled down on her contact list to ‘S’. Her vision blurring, she risked a moment to ensure she tapped Stark and not her classmate, Stacy, before sending the picture. She hoped the man wouldn’t need an explanation. She never contacted him before but after the debacle with Venom he gave her his personal number for emergencies.

 

Once it sent, she mentally sighed in relief, blood coating the back of her throat. With a shaky hand, MJ dialed 911 and promptly passed out.

 

-*-

 

MJ woke up in the hospital. She barely had a chance to process the white walls surrounding her before her mother’s frantic voice filtered into her awareness.

 

“…chelle. Sweetie. Michelle, are you awake? It’s going to be okay, honey. You’re going to be just fine.”

 

“Mom,” MJ rasped. She looked over to see both of her parents eagerly sitting at her bedside. By their haggard appearance and her father’s stubble, it was safe to assume they had been there for a while. Blinking away the fatigue that was firmly seated in her bones, she looked around the room trying to piece together what had happened. God, she felt like she had been asleep forever.

 

MJ felt her mother’s hand grab hers. “Sweetie, are you okay? Are you in any pain?”

 

 _Pain?_ Now that it was mentioned, it felt like an elephant sat her chest. She was half tempted to take a deep breath to dislodge it, but she was too tired to even try. _What the hell happened?_

“I think she’s still a bit out of it,” her father murmured in the background.

“Michelle?” her mother called again, ignoring her father’s attempts to shush her.

 

MJ rolled her head back towards her parents. “Mom, wha-“ Suddenly, everything rushed back overloading her brain and taking her breath away. The van, the man, the picture. Dear God, the _picture._ _Did it even send?_

MJ attempted to sit up, looking around the room for her phone. It must be somewhere. She had it in her hand before she passed out. Ignoring the stabbing pains in her chest and the multiple hands trying to push her back down, she continued to move forward on the bed. “Mom. Mom! Where’s my phone?!” she called out. “Where’s _Peter?!”_

 

Her mother’s hands grabbed either side of her face and forced MJ to look at older woman. “Don’t worry about him, sweetie.”

 

MJ gripped her mother’s shoulders in response. “Where’s Peter?” she forcefully asked, making it clear she wouldn’t calm until there was an answer.

 

Her mother deeply sighed and looked to the ceiling before looking back down at her. “Upstate with that Tony Stark.” MJ visibly relaxed as her mother sat back down next to her. “I don’t understand what could possibly be so important that he isn’t here.”

 

MJ didn’t bother taking the time to process her mother’s comment. “Okay. Good. That’s good. Is he okay?” She risked another glance at her parents.

 

Her father’s face remained unreadable; luckily her mother always wore her emotions on her sleeve. “Okay?!” the woman incredulously asked. “I’m sure he’s just fine. Where was he that night?! When they found you, you-you were…” she ominously trailed off, choking back her sudden onslaught of sobs.

 

MJ watched silently as her mother brought her hands to her face, clearly trying to regain composure. MJ didn’t have anything to say. She didn’t have anything she _could_ say.

 

Her father wrapped an arm around her mother and brought her in close. "Honey, maybe you should take a quick walk. I think you’re stressing out Michelle.”

 

Her mother took a deep, shaky breath and slowly released it. “No, no I’m okay.” She reached forward and grabbed MJ’s hand. “It’s okay.”

 

MJ swallowed, trying to ignore the twinge in her chest from the movement. “Actually, Mom, I could really use a cup of water.”

 

Her mother looked apprehensively between the two of them, clearly not wanting to leave her daughter’s side. MJ tried her best to look too pathetic to refuse. “Okay,” her mother sighed, standing up. “I’ll be right back, sweetie.”

 

MJ wasn’t sure why, but she breathed out a sigh of relief when her mother left the room. Earnestly, she looked at her father, the question clear in her eyes.

 

“Peter’s okay, Shelly,” her father calmly replied. She must’ve really freaked them out if he was using her old nickname. It had been so long since she had heard it, she almost had forgotten about it. “His aunt didn’t say much, but she said he is okay.”

 

MJ nodded and closed her eyes, already feeling exhausted. It didn’t take long for her subconscious to drift off. She halfway asleep when her father stated casually beside her, “I’m sure he’ll be back to his web-slinging activities in no time.”

 

The words felt like a splash of cold water. She whipped her head towards her father, not having the wherewithal to lie. “What?” she asked, her eyes wide.

 

Her father innocently shrugged just as her mother reentered the room with a glass of water.

 

Crap. She should’ve known she got her observation skills from somewhere.

 

-*-

 

MJ was released from the hospital three days later without a single word from Peter. It didn’t help that her mother refused to give her her phone. She was a moment away from requesting AMA papers when the doctor finally gave her approval. She probably would’ve asked for them sooner if she had remembered that she was legally an adult. She blamed the drugs for her oversight.

 

The first day back she knew getting to Peter’s would be a borderline impossible task with her mother constantly doting on her, so she bided her time, waiting until the following morning. She woke herself up when the first streams of light peaked through her curtains and snuck out of the house without a sound.

 

Getting to the apartment took a lot longer than expected. Even with taking a cab, her body moved slower than she had anticipated which was frustrating but fair. While no one told her directly, she definitely picked up on the fact that she had died at some point between her 911 phone call and waking up in the hospital. There was also the added time from requesting the taxi driver to avoid the block where the whole incident took place. If pushed, she was fairly confident she’d be able to face it. But she had more important plans for that morning, and she didn’t want random bullshit like an alley splattered with her blood to get in the way.

 

By the time she made it to his apartment door, she was sweaty and out of breath. If she was honest with herself, she was probably a moment away from collapsing, but she didn’t make it to his apartment only to keel over in front of it. Raising a shaky hand, she knocked on the door, praying at the very least May was home. No one ever confirmed that Peter left the Avengers compound.

 

It only took a few seconds for the door to open, revealing Peter’s shocked face. “MJ! Thank God. I didn’t know they released you.” MJ could practically feel the relief pouring off of him in waves. Peter wrapped his arms around her, causing her to tighten in pain and voice her discomfort. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry!” Peter instantly released her, holding her up by the shoulders.

 

Blinking dark spots out of her eyes, MJ was thankful for the added support. She was fairly positive she’d be on the ground if there wasn’t someone to hold on to. She knew Peter was saying something else, but she couldn’t quite process it as she was ushered inside and guided towards the living room couch.

 

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, crouching down in front of her.

 

MJ nodded. She closed her eyes for a moment and focused on her breath.

 

Peter waited for her eyes to open before he continued, “I tried to visit, but they wouldn’t let me past the waiting room. They kept saying I wasn’t family. …And I don’t think your mother likes me very much anymore.”

 

MJ sighed. She should’ve known. “Don’t worry. She’ll get over it,” she lied. Her mother was definitely one to hold a grudge. At least she had her father on her side. Maybe he could calm her mother down a bit.

 

MJ patted the seat next to her, “Come up here.”

 

Peter sat between her and the armrest. At a painstakingly slow pace to not jostle MJ’s stitches, they rearranged themselves on the couch so Peter was relaxed against the armrest and MJ was relaxed against him. For the first time in three days, she finally felt like she could breathe.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Peter asked, wrapping an arm around her body. She didn’t need to look up to know he was inspecting her body for any sign of pain.

 

“Yeah, I’m good. Just need to take it easy for a few days.” When she was met with quizzical silence, she confessed, “Fine, weeks.” While most of it was hidden beneath his long sleeve pajama shirt, MJ caught sight of a scar circling Peter’s wrist. It looked a few weeks old, but she knew he didn't have it before this ordeal. “What about you?” she asked, turning her head to face him.

 

“I’m good. Mr. Stark found me before they could do anything,” Peter stated, attempting to sound casual.  

 

MJ quirked an eyebrow and lightly poked the faded scar. “For some reason, I don’t believe you.”

 

Peter sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s all a bit hazy. I think the drugs they gave me were pretty strong. It…” He took a deep breath and shakily let it out. “It was going to be bad. I don’t remember much, but I know that. Luckily, Mr. Stark and a few others wiped them out.”

 

MJ bit her lip. Even if that group was gone, there could be more. They seemed too organized to be taken out in one fell swoop. “Do you know what they wanted?”

 

Peter’s arm tightened around her. He inhaled, the breath shuddering beneath her. “It’s hard to say, I think they were speaking Russian. But it seemed like…” When she felt his hand tremble against her hip, she reached over to still it with her own hand. “…like they were preparing for some type of experiment.”

 

If MJ had the energy, she would have likely thrown up a bit. The thought was too unbearable to even imagine. MJ turned to face Peter, as if needing the assurance he was actually next to her and not in a lab somewhere. She immediately noticed the detached look on Peter’s face.

 

Crap. She shouldn’t have pushed. It was all too fresh for the two of them to properly process.

 

Ignoring the pain in her side, MJ reached both hands up and placed them on either side of Peter’s face. “Peter,” she calmly called. “Peter, look at me. You’re back home.”

 

Peter quickly blinked away the veil. Taking one look at her face, tears immediately welled up in his eyes. “God MJ.” He placed his hands over hers, tears unabashedly dripping down his face. “I thought you were dead.” He brought her hands down and held them close to his chest. “I thought…I thought-“

 

“It’s okay. It’s okay, I promise,” MJ shushed him, resting her forehead against his. “I promise,” she repeated earnestly. “I’m fine.”

 

Peter nodded and sniffed back his tears. “I know. I know…” he said as if he was trying to convince himself. “But I saw the blood, and you were-“

 

MJ moved her head back quickly. “I’m fine,” she interrupted a bit more forcibly than she intended. Secretly, she didn’t think she was ready to hear the details of what happened that evening. “The paramedics did their job and now I’m fine.”

 

Peter looked up at the statement, confusion and frustration clouding his features. “You shouldn’t have even been there. I told you to run. And you definitely shouldn’t have been taking pictures.”

 

“That picture saved you,” MJ defended, leaning her body further away from him to look him in the eye. “And I don’t see what difference it makes. I also called 911 and they got there in time.”

 

“MJ. Someone else called 911 when they heard the gunshot. And even then, they almost didn’t find you in time. You’d be dead if they didn’t call.”

 

MJ rolled her body off of Peter, seating herself next to him. She didn’t know that. No one had told her anything. In all fairness, judging by her inability to really think about that revelation, it was probably a good call to leave her in the dark. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she whispered. “But I stand by my choices,” she stated a more firmly.

 

“That’s the problem.” Peter ran a hand through his hair, showing a similar scar around his other wrist.

 

God, they were both so broken and not ready for any type of proper day-to-day functioning. But for some reason, now was the time Peter chose to discuss her choices in a crisis. She resented how bullheaded he could be sometimes; it didn’t mesh well with her own stubbornness. MJ narrowed her eyes and decided to double down. “Spider-Man makes a much bigger impact on the world than I ever would. The world can survive just fine without me.”

 

Peter moved his hands away from his face. “What about me?! I can’t survive without you.”

 

His exclamation startled MJ. She didn’t think she had ever heard Peter raise his voice before. He definitely never raised it at her. “Well, neither can I. I need you just as much as you need me. So either we accept that we are both going to be self-sacrificing idiots…or we relook at this relationship.”

 

MJ cursed at herself. She didn’t mean for it to come out so bluntly. She was just so damn tired, and her chest was starting to hurt like crazy. She waited a moment before she continued, “For what it’s worth, I really hope it’s the first one.”

 

“Goddammit,” Peter sighed, all of the anger gone from his voice leaving only exhaustion. He leaned back and ran his hands over his face, looking utterly defeated.

 

MJ leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder, hoping to establish a truce. “The feeling’s mutual,” she quipped.

 

Maybe it was the stress of the previous week, or the fact that the week felt like a lifetime, but Peter barked out a laugh. Resting his head on top of hers, he whispered, “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

 

MJ closed her eyes and smiled. “Me too.”

 

 


	2. KissFist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happens before the previous chapter. Takes place in the middle of _When Darkness Falls_. I would recommend reading that story first.

 

MJ made her way towards Peter’s apartment, excited to finally be away from her extended family. Christmas and weddings were the only time of year the entire Jones clan got together, and she was mentally maxed out on family fun time. They weren’t particularly bad people; they just refused to shut up about the latest celebrity gossip. And unfortunately, MJ had very limited capabilities on how much she could tolerate self-imposed stupidity.

She hoped seeing Peter would brighten up her sour mood. Weeks prior, he had agreed to be there to buffer the conversation between her and her cousins, but the boy decided to get half of his body broken and eardrums ruptured by a slimy beast instead. After admittedly too much deliberation, she had reluctantly conceded that having him show up suddenly deaf with no apparent explanation would have been too difficult to plausibly explain.

 

Of all the times to be deaf, the lucky bastard.

 

MJ knocked on Peter’s front door, unsurprised to see May answer.

 

“Michelle!” she exclaimed. “It’s good to see you. How was your Christmas?”

 

“Long,” she answered without thinking.  She quickly shook her head and closed her eyes, hoping to restart her brain. It wasn’t May’s fault her family was the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. “Sorry. I mean it was…lovely,” she corrected with only the smallest bit of sarcasm. Small victories.

 

May chuckled in response, “Well, that’s good to hear.” She opened the door wider for MJ to come in. “Peter’s in his room,” she said as she walked back to the living room where a basket of clean clothes were waiting to be folded. “F.Y.I., he seems to be a bit off today.”

 

MJ nodded in May’s direction, “Thanks for the heads up.” She didn’t think too much about the comment. Considering the past week, she figured Peter was entitled to a few ‘off days’. 

 

Seeing the door open, she casually walked in, greeting, “Hey there,” out of habit. She easily caught sight of Peter searching through his closet, oblivious to her entrance. Without thought, she reached over and touched his shoulder to announce her presence.

 

With a surprising amount of agility for someone who had just been on a ventilator, Peter whipped around and shot a web towards the offending hand.

 

“What the hell?” MJ looked between Peter and her webbed hand stuck to the metal frame of his bunk bed. Her facial features softened when she realized Peter looked as shocked as she felt.

 

“Shit, MJ. I’m so sorry.” He quickly turned back around to frantically rummage through his closest. “I have a solvent in here somewhere.”

 

MJ sighed. “It’s okay,” she spoke to the back of his head. “Why are you even wearing your web shooters?”

 

Oblivious to her response, Peter continued to talk over her, words rushing on top of one another. “I’m so sorry. It’s here somewhere, I promise. Just give me a second. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…” he sighed, clearly frustrated. “I just saw it…Here it is!”

 

Triumphant, Peter turned back around, showing the small vile in his hand. Unfortunately, his other arm was still in a cast, making close to impossible to twist off the lid. “One second,” he muttered under his breath as he tried to get a proper grip.

 

MJ slowly placed her free hand on his shoulder to get his attention, hoping it wouldn’t end with it also webbed against the bed. She patiently waited for Peter to look up. “It’s okay,” she stated, maintaining eye contact. She hoped that even if he couldn’t read the words on her lips, he’d be able to tell her meaning from her relaxed facial expression. Removing her hand from his shoulder, she held it out in the space between them expectantly. Understanding her intention, Peter held the vile out to her and she twisted off the top.

 

Visibly calmer, Peter poured the solvent over her webbed hand. “It’ll just take a second.”

 

Within minutes, both hands were free, and she plopped herself down in his desk chair. She frowned, taking in the way Peter was hunched around himself on the edge of his bottom bunk. Grabbing the small white board on the desk, she quickly wrote on it, before tossing the large eraser at him to get his attention. It bounced off his head before landing on the floor by his feet.

 

Well, that was…unexpected. Normally, Peter would have easily caught it without bothering to look up.

 

Clearly as surprised as she was, Peter looked at her with wide eyes.

 

MJ lifted the board towards him, showing the scrawled _What’s up?_

 

Sighing, Peter reached forward to grab the eraser, fiddling with it between his hands. “Nothing really. Just trying to keep busy.”

 

MJ thought back to how she found Peter when she first entered his room: digging through his closet with the web shooters already armed and loaded. Scowling, she pulled her sleeve over her hand and quickly erased the whiteboard with her sweatshirt.

 

 _We agreed. NO SPIDER-MANNING._ She underlined the last part three times for extra emphasis.

 

Peter ran a hand through his hair and looked away briefly. “I know. I know. I wasn’t planning on going out.” He looked back at her, “Honest.”

 

MJ let out a sigh of relief. _Then what’s with the web shooters?_

He immediately hunched back into himself. “I dunno. I just…I feel better with them.” MJ started to write something but stopped when Peter continued quietly, “…I feel a little less useless.”

 

MJ erased what she had started, quickly replacing it with, _You’re not useless._

She lifted it up to show Peter, discouraged to see him still looking at the floor. She waited a few moments before thumping her foot on the ground to get his attention.

 

Feeling the vibrations, Peter glanced up. He frowned at her statement, clearly unconvinced.

 

MJ quickly added, _I don’t think you could be useless even if you tried._

Peter attempted to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

 

MJ waited a moment for any type of response. When none was forthcoming, she crossed the room to sit next to him, the side of her body firmly pressed against his. _What’s up_ , she tried again, white board firmly seated on her lap.

 

Peter glanced over to read it before closing his eyes with a deep sigh. “Everything is just so out of whack. It was nice at first, not having to deal with the extra input,” he made a vague gesture towards his ears. “But now my other senses are in overdrive.” He paused for a moment before flopping back on the bed. “It’s driving me a bit insane,” he admitted reluctantly.

 

MJ looked back at him on the bed. She noticed his already dingy cast and the way his collarbone slightly stuck out from his sweater. Days on a ventilator with no proper food had clearly taken a toll on his body. Biting her lip, MJ looked back at the white board.

 

A few moments later, she lay down next to him, nestled into his side, head firmly rested on his shoulder. Peter reached around and pulled her closer. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure something out,” she whispered uselessly, whiteboard forgotten on the floor.

 

And for the first time, she was glad he couldn’t hear her.

 

-*-

Peter and MJ were comfortably seated on the floor of his room, playing some type of strategy card game that MJ could not remember the name of. Peter and Ned had tried to convince her to play Magic: The Gathering with them for years, and she was very proud of the fact that they had never been successful. Unfortunately, she finally broke a bit and conceded to playing a different card game that was much too close to Magic for her liking. She mentally kicked herself for being so weak-willed. Maybe it was because Peter’s activity options were currently limited…maybe it was because she knew that they would be interrupted shortly after the game had started.

 

Regardless, halfway through their second turn, Peter asked, “What’s with you today?”

 

MJ reached over and wrote, _What do you mean?_ At least she was getting fairly proficient at writing upside down.

 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were giddy.”

 

MJ would be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit excited. After having a secret conversation with May, his aunt got in contact with Tony Stark and now MJ was going to meet an OG Avenger. No offense to Spider-Man, but the first generation Avengers kicked everyone else’s ass. However, she wasn’t about to ruin the surprise with her stupid starstruck attitude. Schooling her features, she purposefully frowned. _Giddy is not an emotion I have at my disposal._

 

Peter smirked before playing his hand. “Sure, whatever you say.”

 

Luckily, the doorbell saved her from having to come up with a witty comeback. MJ stood up, beckoning Peter to join her.

 

Oblivious to the bell, Peter stared blankly at her, “What?”

 

MJ grabbed the whiteboard and quickly wrote, _May and I have a surprise for you._

 

Peter jumped to his feet. “See! I knew there was something!” he victoriously shouted.

Whiteboard still in hand, MJ rolled her eyes and walked out his bedroom, leaving Peter behind to follow.

 

MJ entered the kitchen just in time to see Clint Barton enter from the other side. He looked impossibly cool with a black shirt, leather jacket, and black duffel bag slung over one shoulder. MJ walked further into the kitchen, making space for Peter. “Hi, I’m MJ,” she calmly greeted, swallowing down her excitement. She was thankful she had a lifetime of acting nonchalant to rely on.  

 

Before Clint could respond, Peter took the Avenger’s attention off of her, exclaiming, “Hawkeye?!” He rushed forward to stand next to her, almost running into the kitchen table. “I mean, Mr. Barton! What-what’re you doing here?”

 

MJ had to bite back a smile at Peter’s high and cracking voice. God, he was just so damn endearing sometimes.

 

“Hello there. Just call me Clint,” he reached forward across the table to shake Peter’s hand. “…You must be Peter. Nice to finally meet face to face.”

 

Peter eagerly returned the handshake. Without taking his eyes off of Clint, he whispered out of the side of his mouth towards MJ, “What’d he say?”

 

“Oh!” MJ exclaimed, forgetting the whiteboard under her arm. She walked around the table and passed it off to Clint before standing next to May by the stove.

 

“Would you like something to drink, Clint?” May asked, already putting the kettle on the stove.

 

Clint placed the whiteboard on the table. “I’m fine for now, thank you.” He took a seat and gestured towards Peter to follow suit. “So, Tony mentioned you were having some hearing difficulties,” he stated while making a few gestures with his hands.

 

Peter shrugged apologetically and shook his head, clearly lost as to what was being said.

 

Clint looked back towards May, “So…no sign, huh?”

 

May placed her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. “No, sorry. Doctor estimated it would only take a week or two to heal. We’ve been making do with the whiteboard. ”

 

“Okay, then,” Clint nodded, grabbing the whiteboard and marker.

 

MJ turned around to help May make tea in order to give Peter some semblance of privacy. Unfortunately, that also meant she was stuck only hearing half of the conversation.

 

There was a moment of silence while Peter read whatever Clint had wrote. “Yeah, I’m fine though. The doctor says it’ll heal.”

 

MJ fought the urge to roll her eyes. _Fine_ , her ass. Peter had been on edge for the past two days.

 

“No, no it’s really not that big of a deal. I’m sorry you had to come all the way here.”

 

MJ was half tempted to interrupt, but she was following May’s cue and continued to pour hot water into each mug at a stupidly slow pace.

 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barton. I’m a bit confused. Why _did_ you come here?”

 

That piqued MJ’s interest. Honestly, she was curious about the same thing. She wasn’t quite sure what Hawkeye had to do with Peter’s current condition. But Tony Stark said he could help, and MJ had no reason not to believe him.

 

MJ glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Clint drop something metallic and the size of an unshelled peanut onto the table in front of Peter. Confused, she looked back at the man to see him take a second one out of his ear.

 

“Oh,” Peter commented, as if voicing her thoughts. “Wait,” he looked between the hearing device and Clint before exclaiming, “Seriously?!” Peter looked up at Clint in awe. “That’s so… _cool._ ”

 

Clint raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised at the response.

 

Peter leaned forward to get a closer look at the hearing aid, “Do you think something like that would work for me?”

 

Genuinely curious, MJ glanced down at the whiteboard for Clint’s response.

 

_Nope sorry. These were made by S.H.I.E.L.D. specifically for me._

 

Peter visibly deflated at the news. “Oh.”

 

Clint quirked an eyebrow. _You also said you were fine._

 

MJ smugly smiled behind her mug of tea. Nice try, Peter. She highly doubted Hawkeye got his name from being unobservant.

 

Blushing, Peter quickly backtracked. “I mean, I am fine. Really, I am. It’s just been really hard. I mean, not that hard. Just harder than I expected. And I think my other senses are trying compensate. But they are doing a really, really bad job at it. But I’m sure it will be fine. _I’ll_ be fine,” he rushed out in one breath.

 

Clint patiently waited for Peter to stop talking before pointedly looking at the hearing aids on the table and then back at the boy. “Kid, I’m pretty good at reading lips, but no one would be able to follow that nonsense.”

 

 Beside MJ, May almost spat out her tea.

 

Leaving the hearing aids on the table, Clint slid the whiteboard across the table to Peter. And Peter took a deep breath, looking more relaxed than he had in days. He picked up the marker and wrote down his response for Clint. Finally, there was a level playing field.  

 

May reached over and silently touched MJ’s shoulder. She nodded as May motioned for the two of them to leave the room and let the two superheroes converse in private.

 

-*-

 

MJ sat with May in the older woman’s room, playing some menial game on her phone. Both women looked up in surprise at the sound of furniture being moved around in the next room.

 

“I don’t even want to know,” May sighed as she turned back to her book.

 

MJ silently agreed.

 

Only a few minutes later, she heard Clint’s voice, “Hey! MJ! We need ya out here!”  

 

“Coming!” MJ responded, hopping off the bed and placing her phone in her pocket.

 

Less than a second later, both Peter’s and Clint’s voice called out, “MJ!!”

 

Jesus Christ. Her life went from being at the beck and call of one deaf superhero to two. Not cool.

 

MJ jogged into the hallway. “I’m coming!” she repeated once the two were in her eyesight. She entered the combined kitchen and living room area to find all of the furniture moved to one side.

 

Clint’s voice brought her attention back to the two men standing in the center of the empty living room. “We need your help. See those guns?” Startled, MJ looked around, relieved to find a pile of toy Nerf guns in the open duffel on the ground next to her feet. “We want you to shoot at us,” he explained as if he was asking her to complete some tedious task and not the most awesome thing ever.

 

MJ looked back at them in surprise, grinning in response to Peter's smiling face and eager nods.

 

“Yeah, I can do that.” She grabbed a Nerf gun and easily aimed it at Peter. Without thought, she pulled the trigger, stumbling backwards from the force of the shot. “What the f-“ A Nerf gun wasn’t supposed to recoil.

 

“Oh yeah,” Clint interrupted, “I made it better.”

 

Having a newfound respect for the man, MJ brought the gun back up and aimed a shot right at Clint’s chest, even though she knew there was no hope of it ever landing.

 

Holy crap, their lives were _awesome_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who left kudos and comments on the first chapter. I know it shouldn't, but it really means a lot to know what people think.
> 
> I'm genuinely curious if anyone knows what the chapter title refers to in the comments (without using google) :)


	3. Multiparticle Dynamics

MJ was stressed. It was that lovely time of year where everything was due within the same week, almost like her professors had conspired together to make sure their students questioned every decision that lead them up to that moment. She was doing well enough in her biology and chemistry course, but her physics course was kicking her ass this term. Unfortunately, as a first year she had the last pick of classes, which left her with a professor who taught by scribbling on the board in front of a lecture hall while babbling his stream of consciousness.

 

MJ flipped through the chapter on multiparticle dynamics for a third time in hopes of figuring out what the hell her professor was talking about the previous week. Luckily she had found a few generic videos on YouTube, but she was still left to fill in the blanks on her own.

 

A sudden knock at the door tore MJ from her studies. Cursing the interruption, she walked a few steps across small dorm room and opened the door. Peter stood obliviously cheerful on the other side holding two large pizzas.

 

Taking one look at him, MJ greeted, “Oh yeah, it’s Tuesday.” She turned back around and reentered her torture chamber, muttering, "God, someone kill me now, it’s only Tuesday.”

 

"Ah, c’mon, Tuesdays aren’t that bad.”

 

It may’ve been her imagination, but she could almost feel Peter skipping in behind her. Stupid Peter with his stupid optimism and his stupid boundless energy. Sometimes it was like dating a Labrador puppy.

 

Peter plopped down on the university provided couch beside her, grabbing a slice of pizza out of the box. “Look at it his way, the week is already 40% over.”

 

MJ glared up from her Physics book at Peter. She could practically feel the weight of the bags under her eyes. “That is the opposite of helpful. Do you know how much crap I have due this week?” She leaned back against the couch, feeling the metal frame easily beneath its thin and worn cushions. “Dude, I think I’m going to need a raincheck. I’m sorry. I just have too much stuff to do to hang out. “

 

“I can help.” Peter leaned against her side, looking over her shoulder at her textbook.

               

MJ weakly pushed his shoulder away, not having the energy to put any force behind it. “Don’t touch me. I’m gross and I smell. I haven’t done laundry in weeks.” Much to MJ’s chagrin, Peter stayed firmly in place.

 

“I don’t mind.”

 

“That’s great. But I still need to figure this out.” MJ cringed when Peter took a bite of pizza way too close to her ear.

 

“Physics, huh?” he stated around a mouthful of greasy cheese and dough. “You know that’s my major, right?”

 

Shoulders tense from the chewing noises bouncing around her brain, MJ tersely responded, "Yeah, and I figured you would have your own physics assignments to complete.” She wondered if eating pizza like a butthead was a valid reason to break up with a person.

 

Truth be told, it wasn’t that she didn’t want Peter’s help. It was just that she didn’t want to depend on him. Peter was smart. Begrudgingly, she even conceded that he was smarter than her, which was quite the feat, considering her acceptance to Columbia complete with a merit-based scholarship. But Peter had her beat, winning the genetic jackpot with a genius IQ and spider DNA to supplement any physical limitations his body once had. She needed to know she could do this on her own, without running to Peter anytime there was an equation or concept she didn’t quite understand.

 

“Nah, I already finished all of my assignments,” Peter replied in an offhanded way like such a statement wouldn’t get him murdered in cold blood if spoken aloud within any ivy league. “And I don’t mind. I like explaining this stuff.”

 

_Stuff._ MJ would have laughed if she wasn’t trying to keep her oncoming migraine at bay. She slapped her hand on top of his when he reached over to grab a second slice of pizza. “Peter,” she warned, making eye contact with him for this first time since he entered.

 

Peter raised his hands in mock defeat. “Okay, fine,” he relinquished. Standing, he grabbed one pizza box, even though he could easily finish both in one sitting. “See you this weekend?” he asked hopefully.

 

Focused on her textbook, MJ quickly nodded. She listened as he walked towards the door, words on the page already blurring in front of her. She closed her strained eyes and pressed her head to her hand. _Goddammit._

 

“Peter,” she called.

 

Peter turned his head, eyebrows raised.

 

MJ took a deep breath and looked up. “Can you please help me?”

 

“Of course!” Peter leaped over the coffee table and resumed his position on the couch in one fluid movement. Without hesitation, he gestured towards the diagram on the page. “So for multiparticle dynamics everything depends on first getting the velocity and acceleration of one item…”

 

-*-

 

The next morning MJ woke up to find Peter’s side of the bed empty along with her overflowing hamper. Out of habit, she looked at her phone, happy to see that she didn’t have class for another hour. She then furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of Peter hanging up one of her shirts.

 

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she mumbled, “Peter, what-“

 

“Oh, hey!” Peter greeted, way too chipper considering the time of day. “I hope you don’t mind, I woke up a bit early and thought-“

 

“That’d you do my laundry?” MJ stated incredulously.

 

Peter looked down at the shirt in his hand. “Well…yeah.”

 

MJ rolled her entire body over to fully face him. “You don’t have to do my laundry, Peter.”

 

“I know. But I wanted to.” He easily hung up her shirt and grabbed another one. “You don’t have to spend half of your free time making sure I don’t get killed.”

 

MJ rolled her eyes. “That’s different.”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Pretty sure fighting a mechanical rhinoceros and separating whites from colors are two very different things.”

 

Pink immediately flushed Peter’s cheeks. “Oh, I…” he looked down, inspecting the shirt in his hand. “I…um…didn’t separate-“

 

“Whatever,” MJ interrupted, a smile quirking her lips. Leave it to Peter to completely miss the point. “Can you put the shirt down and come back to bed?”

 

She flopped back down against her pillow and enthusiastically patted the bed next to her.

 

Barely stepping on the loft’s rungs, Peter easily slid into bed next to her.

 

MJ draped an arm over his shoulder and leaned forward. “Thank you,” she whispered before gently kissing his lips.

 

Physics understood and laundry completed, MJ practically felt the stiffness that had taken up permanent residence in her shoulders melt away. She slowly exhaled, sliding herself closer to Peter’s body. The release of tension was a surprising aphrodisiac. Peter lazily smiled in return, rubbing his hand across her lower back. She blindly reached beside her for the packet of gum she kept on the self specifically for moments like this.

 

Breath freshened, MJ tilted her head for a deeper kiss. Finally feeling relaxed enough to let her mind wander, she moved against him, continuing to kiss deeper until she needed to break away from air. She enjoyed the slight taste of mint on his tongue from his toothpaste, relieved that the gum masked her own morning breath in return.  

 

MJ reached her hand under his t-shirt to feel his taut abs. “Well, now that I have some free time,” she murmured.

 

Peter narrowed his eyes and smiled. “Are you trading sexual favors for laundry?”

 

MJ snorted. Goddammit, Peter. It was such a hot and sexy moment and he had to ruin it with a stupid joke. “Nope. Doesn’t count. You already did the laundry,” she rebutted.

 

Peter hummed and placed a quick peck on her lips. “Technicality,” he quipped when he moved away.

 

Fine. She could play this game. She moved fully away from him, holding him at arm’s length. “Do you want to do this or not?”

 

Eye wide, Peter’s face fell in an almost comedic manner as he nodded.

 

“Good, because I do too, and I really need this.”

 

MJ wrapped her arms around Peter’s neck and pulled her body flush against him for a second kiss. With one hand she reached up and fed her fingers though his hair at the base of his neck. Moaning, she continued to press her body against his, moving slightly up and down with her breaths.

 

Without breaking away, she gently slid her body underneath his, knowing Peter was typically more receptive when he was on top. She continued the kiss, sometimes briefly moving her attention to his ear or neck. Everything was coming together so simply and naturally in the moment, she barely needed to put any thought into her movements.

 

She only needed to place one hand on his pajama bottoms for Peter to eagerly remove them, taking his boxers along with them. Mindful of the time, MJ quickly returned the favor. She looked up into Peter’s eyes, smiling, glad to see that he seemed as relaxed and easy as she was.

 

Sometimes things really weren't as difficult as they seemed to be.  

 

An hour later, MJ’s dorm room was still a mess and her hair was in desperate need of a wash, but she had made it to class on time, feeling better than she had in weeks.

 


	4. Love is Not a Victory March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter relies on information shared at the end of _Uncharted Territory_. Heed the tags. As always, the abuse is not explicit.

 

The entire day was fairly uneventful. MJ had a few classes and a lab to attend. She also had a large assignment to finish, leaving her little time to think about anything else. Ignoring her aching back, she hunched over her desk in her dorm room, trying her best to solve the large list of differential equations while silently cursing her professor. She definitely wasn’t thinking about anything Peter or Spider-Man related when Peter came stumbling through her open window late in the evening. MJ looked up in surprise; he was typically a lot more graceful when coming in unannounced.

 

MJ opened her mouth to greet him but her breath caught in her throat as she watched him stagger towards the opposite side of the room. His breaths rattled in his chest, echoing around the small, concrete room.

 

Calculus long forgotten, MJ leapt from her chair. “What happened?!”

 

His limbs shaky and uncoordinated, he collapsed onto her couch. MJ quickly followed, reaching forward to remove his mask. Mechanical eyes widening, Peter flinched backwards. The sound of crunching metal distracted MJ from Peter’s labored breaths. Beneath his fingers, the metal bar the university deemed to be an armrest was bent and warped. More alarmingly, his gloved fingers were tinged a reddish-brown.

 

Belatedly, MJ smelled the metallic tang of blood.

 

She leaned back and raised her hands, hoping to come off as nonthreatening as possible. She tore her gaze away from his clenched fist, taking in the way his mechanical eyes deliberately blinked every few seconds. It was way too off rhythm to be natural.

 

 “Peter. Where are you hurt?” She slowly asked.

 

Peter’s rasping breaths were his only response. His eyes blinked a few more times before closing them tight. She silently cursed the mask, it was way too difficult to get a read on what was happening and Peter was clearly in no shape to help.

 

MJ was at a total loss of what to do. Peter had yet to give any indication he knew what was happening or where he was. His hand finally relaxed his grip on her arm rest, but she still couldn’t risk getting closer, not until she knew Peter had control over his strength.

 

She figured her safest bet was to place her foot solidly against the side of his boot. Eyes still closed, Peter didn’t respond. MJ leaned forward. “Peter, please talk to me.”

 

Peter’s breath stilled for a moment and his mechanical eyes reopened. “I…I think I killed him,” he rasped.

 

MJ blinked in surprise. She was preparing herself for an injury, not a crime. She risked a quick glance at his bloodied hands, pieces finally falling into place. Her gaze travelled up his trembling arm, resting on where his shoulders hunched around himself.

 

“That’s okay.” Her own words surprised her. “That’s…okay,” she repeated a bit more firmly. She trusted Peter more than anyone. Anything he did would have been with the best intentions. She just now needed to figure out what his intentions were. She bit her lip as she looked back at his masked face. Any further discussion would be so much easier if she could see his face. “Peter, can I have your mask?”

 

Peter let out shaky breath, before bringing his hands up and slowly taking off his mask, revealing a pale face with red-rimmed eyes. Wordlessly, he handed it over, hunching back into himself when MJ gently took it from his hands. MJ remained resolutely in front of him, her foot still firmly planted against the side of his. She waited a few moments, rubbing the foreign fabric between her fingertips and thumb.

 

“Can you tell me what happened?”

 

Still staring at his lap, Peter slowly shook his head a few times, the movement eerily smooth for how much his shoulders were quaking.

 

MJ nodded in return, looking at the mask in her hands. After a few moments, she looked back up to see Peter bringing an unsteady hand up to his mouth. She raised a hand to stop him, but the moment his blood-stained glove touched his lips, Peter’s face turned an alarming shade of pale green. Without thinking, MJ reached over to grab her small wastebasket and held it in front of Peter.

 

Peter loudly heaved as he clutched the basket, spitting out bile. MJ stood beside him, lightly rubbing his back as his stomach continued to lurch. After the last heave, Peter spat once and deflated against the couch, arms still wrapped protectively around the basket in his lap. Closing his eyes, he fully relaxed his head against the back of the couch.

 

MJ felt her own tears rise as she watched Peter force his breathing to steady and seemed to will his trembling body still. Despite his best efforts, a tear silently slipped out of his closed eyes, quickly followed by another. Chastising her own incompetence, MJ silently sat down beside Peter and helplessly watched as her boyfriend slowly fell apart piece by piece.

 

She waited a few moments for the air around her to calm before sliding the side of her body against his. She had no idea if it would help or hurt but doing nothing was not an option.

 

Peter immediately tensed at the contact. “Please, don’t,” he stated, his voice low and hoarse.

 

“Okay,” she replied, moving back to her original spot.

 

Head still resting against the top of the backrest, Peter opened wet eyes to look at her. “Thank you,” he breathed. The relief in his voice was palpable.

 

MJ’s hands tensed around the mask in her hands. Peter was drowning and she was stuck ashore without a life preserver to help. Maintaining eye contact, MJ tried another avenue. “Should I call someone? May? Tony?”

 

Peter frantically shook his head at the suggestion.

 

MJ was at a total loss. She still didn’t even have an idea of what happened. A few came to mind, but none she was willing to voice aloud. MJ glanced back down at the mask. While she never attempted to watch his previous patrols before, she knew the suit had the capabilities. “Do you think I could watch it on-“

 

Peter lifted his head. “No.” He stated firmly, his voice returning to its original strength. Her question lingered in the air, unfinished. “No one should have to see that.”

 

MJ’s shoulders dropped. “Then I don’t know how to help.” Peter placed the wastebasket beside him and hunched forward, resting his arms on his knees. She patiently waited, hopeful that this was the first step to some answers.

 

“I was eating a falafel on a roof when I heard her,” Peter started, his voice quiet but steady, “some girl in the building below me. God, she sounded so young.” He turned his red-rimmed eyes to look at MJ. “MJ, she was so young.”

 

MJ slowly reached one hand forward and placed her hand over his glove. For the first time, Peter didn’t move away. Feeling emboldened, she squeezed his hand lightly, rubbing her thumb across the back of his. “Peter, what happened to the girl?” The way Peter spoke in the past tense made her stomach twist in knots.

 

““I-I…I saw him on top of her. I think I broke through the window. I saw him and he was so big and she was so small…” Peter took a deep shaky breath. Comprehension washed over MJ in waves, her stomach tightening for a completely different reason. “The things he was doing. I had to stop him…I-I had to.”

 

MJ firmly squeezed his hand and followed Peter’s eyes until they were locked on her own. Her next words were crucial, and she refused him the freedom to break eye contact. “You did the right thing.”

 

“He was her dad,” Peter replied, tears falling over his cheeks. MJ reached across and guided Peter’s head to rest on her shoulder. Peter moved easily this time, finally accepting physical contact. MJ felt her t-shirt dampen with his tears as he turned his head into her shoulder.  “I-I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop…I couldn’t stop…”

 

MJ rubbed a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp. “Shhh…It’s okay. It’s okay. You did what you had to do.” Glancing at the bent and twisted metal bar on the other side of her, she thought about the implications. It was so easy to forget the strength that came with the spider bite. Behind Peter’s bright, round eyes and childlike glee was a man who could stop a moving bus or lift a fallen building. Or kill a person.

 

“Was he breathing when you left?” she softly asked.

 

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Peter shook his head against her shoulder. She weaved her fingers through his hair and gently stilled him. “It looked so bad. The little girl…she was screaming.” Peter lifted his head off her shoulder and looked at her with wide eyes. “She was screaming at me to stop. And I just left. I just left her alone with him. …Why the hell did I leave?” Breaths quickly picked up their pace, shuddering through Peter’s chest.

 

Recognizing she was about to lose any type of calm they had been able to achieve, MJ reached over and placed her hands on either side of his face. “Peter,” she called, her voice far more steady than she felt. “Peter. Look at me.”

 

“I have to go back,” Peter urgently stated. His eyes were clear and his voice was firm. If it wasn’t for his words, MJ would’ve been hopeful they were making some progress.

 

“No. No you are not.” Her hands remained on his face even though his gripped her wrists to move them away. “Do you know where it was?”

 

Peter nodded, swallowing once. MJ released her hands and raised her eyebrows for him to continue. “It was the apartments by Woodhaven. Um…Birch…something…” he briefly closed his eyes, picturing the signs. “Birch Creek? It was the top floor.”

 

MJ wrapped her hands around his, plan already formulated. “Okay. I’m going to go to the old payphone by the science building and call 911 to report a break in. And you are going to stay here.”

 

“MJ-“

 

 “They can’t prove it was actually you. Anyone can buy a Spider-Man costume,” she reasoned. She gripped his hands a bit more firmly when she felt the trembles resume.

 

Peter’s eyes lost their brief moment of clarity. “No, MJ. I should go-“

 

“Peter, _please_ just stay here. Let the police do their job tonight.” Looking over his blood-stained costume, she stood before Peter had a chance to respond. She grabbed one of his t-shirts from her closet and handed it to him. “Maybe you should get changed while I’m gone.”

 

Blinking at the shirt, he took a bit longer to process her suggestion than she would have liked. She frowned as he slowly grabbed the shirt and held it in his lap. MJ grabbed a beanie left behind from the previous winter and pulled it low over her head. She then threw on a dark hoodie for good measure. She wasn’t sure what security systems the science building had, if any.

 

She grabbed her laptop and knelt down in front of Peter, not liking the way he was still gripping the shirt in his lap. “Peter.” He raised his eyes to meet hers. She gestured towards the shirt. “Get changed and then watch some Netflix. Can you do that for me?”

 

Peter nodded a miniscule movement that she would’ve missed if she wasn’t looking right at him. “Great,” she responded, a fake smile plastered on her lips. “I’ll be back soon.” She quickly brought up a TV show they had been in the middle of and left her laptop on the coffee table in front of him. She slipped her shoes on and headed towards the door.

 

“MJ,” Peter’s voice quietly interrupted as she was opening the door. MJ turned back to face him. “Please be careful. If I did...” he swallowed once, cutting himself off. "You'd be an accomplice."

 

MJ’s grimaced at the thought of a full-blown investigation. “I’m just making a phone call. It'll be okay,” she lied. She nodded again towards the shirt in his hands. She breathed a sigh of relief when he finally stood and pressed the spider emblem on his chest. MJ closed the door behind her and made her way towards the only payphone she was aware of on campus.

 

When she returned twenty minutes later, she was greeted to the sight of Peter back on the couch, staring blankly at the Netflix screen in front of him. Thankfully, he had at least changed into the shirt and plaid PJ bottoms. She silently sat down next to him and wrapped a blanket across both their shoulders.

 

Sometimes the best help was knowing when not to push.

 

-*-

 

When Peter finally fell asleep it was fitful. After a few abrupt awakenings on the couch, MJ coaxed him into his loft bed, his limbs stumbling over the ladder in a way she had never seen from him before. Adrenaline still pumping through her veins, she laid down next to him, mind replaying her 911 phone call in a constant loop.

 

_I’m not ssure. It’s…dark. The apartment is called Birch…ssomething. It’s only a f-few stories. There’s broken glass…I think._

Peter tensed beside her, his breath coming in a quick gasp before shakily exhaling.

 

“Peter, you’re okay. You’re in my dorm room,” she whispered next to him, rubbing her hand gently up and down his chest. He relaxed next to her, placing his own hand over hers.

 

_I d-dunno. I think there’s a kid, ask ‘im. I’m too messed up for this sh-shit. It was supposed to be a fun night, ya know? Now this bullsh…shit’s ruining my buzz. It sounds suuuper bad. Like someone’s getting killed. Yeah, just south of the park._

 

MJ breathed in time with Peter’s breaths, silently waiting for the sun to rise.

 

-*-

 

The next morning, MJ hacked her way into the 110th precinct’s police reports, only occasionally glancing over at Peter’s sullen face beside her. She felt a strange sense of pride when she successfully entered before finishing her first cup of coffee.

 

Peter’s eyes slid over, warily watching her. “When did you get so good at breaking into a police database?” Typically, he would have been amused at how awesome her secret skills were, but his usual mirth had vanished. MJ figured it was understandable considering the horrific circumstances.  

 

 “When my boyfriend became a vigilante,” she lied. She wasn’t about to mention her failed quest to find ‘Skip’ when the calm between them was already so strained.

 

Peter nodded, frowning as she scanned through the various reports filed within the past six hours.

 

The word BIRCH leapt out at her, almost feeling like a smack in the face. Holding her breath, she quickly skimmed the report, glad that Peter seemed oblivious to her find. Once she reached the end of the shockingly short report, she pushed her chair back and smiled. “Found it.”

 

Peter immediately leaned over and started to read the report himself.

 

“It’s good news. No murder charges filed and the sick douchebag got what his deserved.”

 

Peter narrowed his eyes, still staring at the computer screen. “He’s in critical condition,” he rebutted.

 

MJ set her jaw. There were many things she was willing to let slide with Peter's hero-complex but feeling remorse for hurting a pedophile was not one of them. “He’s human garbage who fucks his own daughter.”

 

Peter immediately turned white at her words. Guilt over her own tactlessness settled deep in MJ’s stomach. She opened her mouth to apologize but Peter’s words cut her short.

 

“Nobody knows that.”

 

Her eyes widened with the realization. She pulled herself forward to reread the report. While there was no mention of Spider-Man, the only crime mentioned was the aggravated assault they were hoping to charge the perpetrator with.

 

_Shit._

 

-*-

 

An hour later, MJ opened her door to a gleeful Ned, and she was never more thankful that all three of them had chosen colleges within ten miles of each other.

 

“Hey guys. OG Man in the Chair at your service.” Ned halted mid-step, finally reading the tense atmosphere. “Woah, who died?”

 

Peter visibly flinched at his friend’s words.

 

Ned looked back and forth between the two. “Seriously, did somebody die?”

 

“No. No one died,” MJ firmly stated, looking pointedly at Peter. “No one is even close to dying,” she lied. There was no way of knowing how critical the sicko’s ‘critical condition’ was, but luckily it inconsequential to their task at hand.

 

“Then what’s with all this.” Ned gestured vaguely between the two of them.

 

MJ sighed. Man, they really needed to start working on their poker faces. She guided Ned towards her laptop, the police report still blatantly staring at them on the screen. “We need you to look up emergency contact information for this person.”

 

Ned leaned forward to read the report. His eyebrows quickly furrowed in confusion. “Guys, I know I’m the best at sleuthing, but the contact information is right here,” he stated, pointing at the ‘victim’s’ personal information.

 

“No, not his information. Information for any known relatives.” MJ fell into the chair next to Peter but kept her focus on Ned. “Maybe a will? Maybe a school file for the daughter?”

 

Ned glanced over at Peter, the concern clear in his eyes. Evidently, she wasn’t the only one who had noticed his grim silence. “Okie dokie,” he stated. His levity was ill fitting to their current mood but appreciated, like a balm over a burn. “Let’s see what we can find,” Ned took a seat in her computer chair and pulled his laptop out of his backpack.

 

Once Ned was plugged in and typing a mile a minute, MJ finally risked a glance Peter’s way.

 

Peter easily caught her eyes. “What if they don’t believe us?” he whispered.

 

MJ had already considered the possibility. Frowning, she nodded her head towards the bloodied Spider-Man suit hiding in her closet. “Then we send them some video evidence.”

 

Peter looked sick at the prospect.

 

 

-*-

 

Luckily, the video was never needed and the entire evening of evidence was deleted a few days later thanks to Ned. Last MJ heard, the child was relocated with a grandparent and charges were filed against the father.

 

Peter announced when the father was released from the hospital and directly sent to a jail cell, but MJ wasn’t particularly concerned with that piece of information. He could have spent a few months in the ICU for all she cared.   

 

The only thing she did care about was Peter. She hadn’t seen or heard from him in a week, which was weird for them. Between his dorm room visits and her assisting him on patrols, they usually made some type of contact every day or two.

 

MJ lay in her bed, staring at her unanswered text from the previous day.  Frowning, she brought up her contact list and called the one person she knew would answer.

 

“Hi, Michelle,” May calmly greeted.

 

“Hey there, May.” It was a relief to finally establish contact with Peter, even if it was by proxy. “I’m sorry to bother, but I was wondering how Peter was doing.”

 

There was a long pause on the other end. MJ waited, each suspended moment causing her muscles to tense once more. “It’s been a bit rough,” May responded, each word measured. “There’s a lot…” she trailed off, deciding to not disclose Peter’s secrets. “I think he really scared himself,” she finally stated.

 

“Is there anything I can do?” MJ asked, even though she was fairly certain she already knew the answer.

 

“No... I think he’s just going to need some time.”

 

“Okay, thanks May.” She tried to hide her disappointment because deep down she understood. Sometimes there were problems that only a parent could really help with. Someone who knew and understood fully what had happened and the implications of it.

 

Someone who had been there from the beginning.

 

-*-

 

To her surprise, Peter called her the following day to invite her over for dinner. Gradually, enough time had passed for Peter and MJ to fall back into a cautious routine. Spider-Man went back on patrol, and MJ went back to pounding her head with her physics textbook. She wasn’t even sure what physics had to do with biochemistry. Luckily, she found that coursework enjoyable or else she would be seriously reconsidering her major.

 

Since Peter didn’t seem as eager to come crashing into MJ’s dorm, she started visiting Peter in his and his aunt’s apartment on a more regular basis. Thoroughly enjoying her Saturday, she lounged in his lower bunk rereading her favorite Vonnegut novel, while Peter quickly flipped through his mail.

 

Ever since the general population became aware of the friendly, neighborhood Spider-Man, fan mail was a part of Peter’s weekly routine. Luckily, nothing ever came directly to the apartment, showing up instead at the Avenger’s Tower for Tony Stark’s lackeys to collect and organize. Tony always passed it off to Peter directly with a smirk and quip about how not to keep his “adoring fans” waiting. As far as she knew, while responses were few and far between, Peter had never left a letter unopened.

 

Peter’s entire body was a paradox. His face remained still and stoic but his foot bounced with a vibrant energy. Little bits of merriment were resurfacing with time, and MJ was hopeful it would continue as long as he wasn’t pushed.

 

Peter opened a letter and his leg immediately stilled.

 

MJ glanced over her book. “What is it?” she asked. She half expected it was another x-rated love letter from an over eager fan that she could casually tease him with, but Peter didn’t have the telltale deep red blush on his cheeks.

 

Wordlessly, Peter passed the letter to MJ. Interest piqued, she glanced at the shaky cursive and began reading.

 

_Dear Spider-Man,_

_I am the grandmother of a young girl who is the light of my life. A few weeks ago, the world came crashing down around me when someone broke into her apartment and beat her father within one inch of his life. A few days later, it came crashing down again when someone left an anonymous tip accusing her father, my son, of unspeakable things. I didn’t want to believe it, but my granddaughter confirmed it._

_No one knows who it was, but my granddaughter suddenly has vivid dreams about Spider-Man.  She is more of a pony and princess type – never showing much interest in spiders and superheroes. I’ve spent a long time in this world, and I must believe that these events are linked. If this is true, my family owes you an insurmountable debt. We have a long road ahead of us, but I know one day we will be okay all thanks to one kind soul._

_Sincerely,_

_Nana_

 

MJ carefully handed the letter back to Peter. “Are _you_ okay?”

 

Peter paused, clearly mulling over the question. He glanced back down at the letter. “No. But that’s okay,” a cautious smile quirked his lips, “because I will be, one day.”

 


	5. Lay Your Head on Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, this is kind of the culminating chapter - relies on bits and pieces from all previous stories and chapter. Rating has been changed to explicit for consensual M/F (more in chapter 6). Title taken from the song Little Do You Know by Alex & Sierra.

 

It started pretty small. Nothing too concerning.

 

MJ was stuck in a nondescript room. There was nothing there that she immediately recognized but there was also nothing that alerted her of danger. Her only light source was the screen in front of her broadcasting Spider-Man’s movements. The angle of the video kept changing, sometimes displaying Peter’s perspective, other times showing him gracefully jumping from building to building. MJ continued to watch him for while, transfixed by the video, time seemingly having no meaning.

 

Spider-Man was mid leap when the video was suddenly engulfed in darkness. A pink, forked tongue plunged its way forward. MJ immediately jumped backwards but the image seemed to follow her, Peter’s pain-filled screams echoing around her.

 

Dear God, it was happening again. They never found the black blob that had morphed into a sentient being called Venom, capturing a host for longer and longer periods of time. Now it had found Peter again. MJ tried screaming but it was stuck in her throat, trapped behind her breath and aching for release.

 

Peter screamed for her as the loud, unmistakable crack of broken bones echoed around the room. MJ reached down and brought up a phone, its screen glowing obstinately in the darkness.

 

MJ quickly pressed the buttons on the phone, dialing for help, but her quaking fingers seemed too large and couldn’t press the right ones. Over and over again she kept pressing the wrong buttons as her mind screamed the correct sequence. Cursing herself, she hung up and restarted a seemingly infinite number of times all while the pink tongue followed around the room and Peter’s screams bounced off the walls.

 

She felt choked with her own incompetence. She stopped and tried again, her fingers accidently pressing two numbers at once. Attempting to breathe past Peter’s screams seemed just as impossible as dialing the damn phone, and MJ felt herself crumple with despair.

 

Suddenly, MJ gasped herself awake, air filling her lungs. Her t-shirt clung to her body, damp with cold sweat. Still shaky with the darkened image of Venom, she looked anxiously around her empty dorm room. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found only clutter and cheap furniture in its dark corners.

 

Sitting up in her bed, she ran her hands down her face, finding it slick with sweat and tears. She slowly descended the ladder of her loft bed and changed into a new set of pajamas, hoping to still get a few more hours of sleep.

 

When the sun finally rose, she awoke a second time anxious and jittery. One sleep deprived night. Most college students had it much worse. No big deal, nothing to be too concerned about.

 

That was how it started.

 

-*-

 

One night evolved into two in a row which then gradually progressed into three.

 

Peter was there sometimes, waking her up with a sturdy shake before she became too lost in the darkness. On those nights, she was thankful for the way his body cocooned around her, her head resting on his shoulder. She was even more thankful that he didn’t ask about it until the following morning when the room was illuminated with natural light from the sun. She didn’t think she could voice the terror that filled her body. It wasn’t always the same nightmare. If it was, there would have been a chance that she could logic her way out of it when it started.

 

But sometimes it was as simple as being unable to dial a phone.

 

Sometimes it was a large bullet lodging itself in her chest, making it impossible to breathe.

 

Sometimes Venom liquefied and poured down the walls of her room before morphing and attacking.

 

And sometimes its image slipped from her mind as she awakened, leaving her shaking with fear but with no ability to remember what had jolted her from her slumber. Those were the worst nights. Sleep was so long forgotten that she often found herself awake for the rest of the night, half-heartedly completing some menial task until it was time to get ready for class.

 

One good thing about turning into an insomniac was that there was always a dryer available in the communal laundry room.

 

-*-

 

MJ pressed her body flush against Peter’s. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she melted against the safety his warmth provided. Her body had been on edge for days and it was taking its toll, leaving her grumpy and annoyed most of the time. She was surprised that Peter had even opted to spend the night considering how snappish she had been over their dinner. She hoped to make it up to him now.

 

MJ moved against his bare chest, his length rubbing against her upper thigh. Peter palmed one of her breasts, his thumb slowly trailing over her nipple, and lifted his head to kiss her bottom lip. She moaned her approval. Placing one hand on her hip, he gracefully twisted both of their bodies so he was on top. She relaxed head against her pillow and lifted her body upwards with her breath, not wanting to lose the contact.

 

Peter threaded his fingers behind her head and through her curly hair. MJ leaned her head to the side as he mouthed her neck. The fingers on his other hand started travelling dangerously downward. She let out a breathy exhale, her moans eagerly encouraging him to continue. 

 

When the fingers reached her hipbone, they paused for a moment, in time with Peter’s stuttering breath.  If was another time or another boy, MJ may’ve assumed he was simply prolonging the inevitable release, but tension shot through Peter like a bullet.

 

MJ turned her head to face him, discouraged to find his shoulders tense and his face against her pillow. She rolled her body, moving her hips imperceptibly away from his still fingers.

 

“Peter,” she whispered, placing her hand on his shoulder.

 

“I’m okay. Just give me a second,” he muttered from the pillow.

 

“Okay,” she conceded. With one hand, she massaged some of the tension out of his shoulder. “Is this okay?”

 

Peter nodded and let out a shaky breath before looking back at her. “I’m good now.”

 

“You sure?” Moments like these didn’t happen often, but they’ve increased in their frequency recently. Recalling the evening where Peter stumbled into her room covered in another man’s blood, she didn’t have to think very hard as to why.

 

Peter answered her question with a tense kiss. MJ followed his lead and easily reciprocated, hoping her tenderness would guide him back to the present. He went back to kissing her neck but the movements lost their fluidity.

 

After a few moments, Peter pulled away sharply, his eyes clenched. “Sorry. Sorry,” he breathed.

 

MJ went back to massaging his shoulder. “It’s okay –“

 

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” he interrupted.

 

She locked her eyes with his. God, he seemed so contrite. She was starting to worry she was witnessing the start of a spiral. “Don’t worry. It’s okay. We’ll make up for it later.” MJ shifted her body over. Defeated, Peter laid his body down next to her. She slid one arm beneath his neck and guided his head to her shoulder. With her other arm, she reached down and pulled up a blanket. With Peter’s help, both of them were covered in seconds without having to move from their embrace.

 

“I’m too tired for sex anyway,” she muttered above his ear, only feeling slightly guilty about the half-lie.

 

-*-

 

MJ’s eyes were dry and heavy as she sat across from Ned in the café.

 

Ned paused from drinking his macchiato and leaned forward. “You guys, I mean this in the best possible way…but you both look like crap.”

 

MJ half thought of three different retorts but they all died in the back of her throat. A witty retort took way too much brain power than she was willing to expend. She glanced warily beside her, hoping Peter may defend their honor.

 

Peter frowned over his own macchiato, the drink still full to the brim. She narrowed her eyes at the drink. That was…uncharacteristic. Usually, Peter and Ned drank their caramel-laden drinks with such ferocity that the subsequent sugar high was almost too much for MJ to bear.

 

MJ clutched her own double espresso as she looked up at Peter’s pale and drawn face. She had been so lost in her own dull haze; she hadn’t noticed the way Peter’s hair limply hung over his forehead, slightly obscuring his faded gaze and red-rimmed eyes.

 

Shit, Ned had a point. When the fuck did he become the observant one?

 

“So, how’s NYU?” MJ evaded, ending the question with a nonchalant sip of her drink.

 

Ned raised his eyebrows in return. “Clearly better than what’s going on with you two,” he quipped.

 

MJ scowled. Dammit, Ned, read the room.

 

“Ned, leave it,” Peter snapped, voice low but his anger clear.

 

MJ blinked in surprise. The authority in Peter’s voice was completely foreign. Even Spider-Man tended to rely on quips and exclamations of ‘awesomeness’ rather than direct commands.

 

Ned leaned back from the table and raised his hands in mock defeat. “Okay, don’t shoot the messenger. Just let me know if you need anything.”

 

Peter lowered his head, his shoulders raised and hands in loose fists on either side of his gradually cooling drink.

 

MJ made eye contact with Ned, the concern in his face reflecting her own. “We will,” she promised.

 

The dialogue that continued was so banal, MJ struggled remember it as they left the café. She wasn’t even sure how much she had participated. The morning had faded to the fog of the past week in her sleep deprived mind.

 

As they said their goodbyes, Peter reached out and placed one hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Hey…I’m sorry,” the sincerity in his voice was so clear that it stood out starkly from the dull monotone that had inhabited his voice the last few weeks.

 

Didn’t Peter’s voice use to always sound like that? Shit, they really needed to get their crap together. If only MJ had the energy to think beyond the next few minutes.

 

“No worries, man. It’s all good,” Ned smiled, easily waving it off. “I mean what I said though. Anything at all, you know I’m here.”

 

Ned turned around to head towards the train station. A few steps in, he turned his head back towards them. “You too, MJ!”

 

MJ felt the corners of her mouth creep up in a smile. Ned was too good for the two of them.

 

-*-

 

“This is a bad idea.”

 

MJ stood a few feet from Peter, his backpack strap clutched tight in her hand.

 

“I always go on patrol on Fridays,” Peter reasoned.

 

“You’ve been spacey all afternoon.”

 

“No, I haven’t.”

 

MJ sighed. Jesus Christ, Peter, at least try to make a valid argument. “Yes.  Yes, you have." Peter arrived at her dorm room a few hours ago completely checked out. He responded to her greeting reasonably well, but she could tell by his blank look that he wasn't really paying attention to where he was. It wasn’t until she snapped her fingers in front of his face that he shook himself out of it. And even then the detached look seemed to slide back at a moment’s notice. “It’s happening more and more. Do you even remember how you got here today?”

 

“I took the train,” he confidently answered.

 

MJ’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me one detail about the train ride.”

 

“It was an average, run-of-the mill train ride.” He shrugged offhandedly. “I don’t see why you are making such a big deal out of this.”

 

She ignored the accusation. “Was the train on time? Did you see any panhandlers? Buskers? Come on, something must’ve stood out.”

 

Peter's eyes were wide and innocent. “It was totally and completely normal.”

 

MJ barked out a laugh. Someone really needed to teach the boy how to lie better. Both had them had grown up in New York City. ‘Normal’ did not exist on the subway.

 

Peter ran his hands over his face. “It’s been a long week. You’re tense. I’m tense. This will help.”

 

He leaned forward to reach for the bag. MJ moved her hand away, easily evading his grasp. “And I think this is the definition of stupidity. A spacey Spider-Man is a dead Spider-Man.”

 

“I’ll keep it to the low level stuff. I promise.”

 

“There is no way you can keep that promise,” MJ bit out, anger creeping into her voice.

 

Peter held out his hand in response.

 

She stared at it for a moment, knowing she had lost. There was nothing she could say to keep him from being Spider-Man. It was as engrained in his DNA as the spider bite. Her frustration reached its max. Her eyes felt permanently bruised and her muscles were now constantly tense. She probably would have teared up at her own futility if she wasn’t so tired.

 

A long sigh expelled from deep within her. Silently, she handed over the backpack.

 

Peter gently took it and pulled out his suit.

 

“Please don’t go out,” she implored, anger disappearing and leaving only a resigned sadness. “Let’s just watch some Netflix tonight. Like normal college students.”

 

He looked between the suit in his hands and MJ’s downcast face. His shoulders dropped. “Fine.”

 

She looked up in surprise. “Thank you,” she breathed, taking the suit out of his hands and placing it back in the backpack before he could change his mind.

 

Later, MJ unexpectedly succumbed to sleep during the second episode of some British detective show, her head comfortably rested against Peter’s thigh. Sleep dragged her down deep, completely oblivious to the detectives chattering away in her dorm room. She felt heavy and tense, an ominous being following her into her subconscious. Cold, icy tendrils seeped their way into her pores, leaving her paralyzed. Unable to shake the terror that had crawled inside, her breath caught in her lungs, lodged deep like a bullet.

 

“MJ!” Suddenly, a pressure shook her shoulder, jolting her awake. Gasping, she shook away thoughts of Venom’s forked tongue and stray bullets. She focused on Peter’s hand around hers and clenched it in return.

 

“You okay?” he asked, his face hovering over hers.

 

MJ nodded, catching her breath. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She looked at her laptop screen. The characters were talking about a completely different case than before. At least she got one episode’s worth of sleep.

 

“What happened in the show?”

 

Peter stilled above her and glanced away. “I…I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice weak and ashamed. MJ’s stomach twisted in knots.

 

They were getting worse.

 

-*-

 

MJ sat in the back row of her lecture hall, absentmindedly scribbling down notes from the overhead screen. She toyed with the idea of recording the lecture. One part to replay back when she was more conscious and two parts so the professor’s droning voice could put her to sleep at night. Her phone vibrated on her desk, jolting her out of the idea. Seeing Peter’s name on the screen, she quickly packed up and silently walked to the back door. If he was calling midday, it must be something urgent; they were more of the texting type.

 

“What’s up?” she greeted after the door closed behind her.

 

 _“MJ…I- I think I need some help.”_ Peter’s voice sounded breathless on the other side of the phone.

 

“What’s wrong?” She juggled her notebook in her arms, getting a better grip on the phone as she jogged toward the exit.

 

_“My ankle. I think it’s pretty messed up.”_

“Anything else?” MJ questioned. An injured ankle…that was good. Not great, but not life-threatening.

 

_“No. But I can’t walk on it, and I’m in my suit.”_

“Gotcha. I’ll grab some clothes from my dorm. Where are you? Are you hidden?” MJ darted in between throng of students outside. Luckily, her frantic running barely got a second glance. Running late to class was part of the college experience.

 

_“Yeah. I’m on the roof of that crepe place. In Sunnyside.”_

“Coral’s? That’s good. That’s super close. I should be there in thirty. Do I need to bring anything else?” MJ panted, hoping to end the call soon. Her body was not built for running and talking at the same time.

 

“ _No, no. That’s it.”_

“Okay, see you soon.”

 

-*-

 

MJ exited the cab to the image of several cop cars on the other side of the street. She took a few steps to the side, peeking around the police barrier. One police officer was placing a handcuffed man in the back of the cruiser and while the other officers were attempting cut a second man down from webbing.

 

Well, that was promising.

 

MJ glanced up at the shop signs while dialing Peter’s number.

 

_“Hello?”_

“I’m here. Any ideas of how to get me to the roof?”

 

_“Um...”_

MJ waited a few seconds as she slowed to a stop in front of the café. After way too long of a pause, she prompted, “Peter?”

 

 _“…What?”_ The word was slow and drawn out. Almost detached.

 

Shit. Something was very, very wrong.

 

“Peter, are you okay? Did you hit your head? Don’t lie.”

 

_“…MJ?”_

“Yeah, it’s me.” She ran around the back of the building, trying to find a fire escape or fence or _something_ she could use to get her up towards the roof. “I’m right below you.”

 

_“Oh, okay.”_

 

MJ pulled her head back in surprise at the sudden dial tone in her ear. Her phone flashed ‘call ended 00:36’ back at her. Did he just-

 

She didn’t have the chance to finish the thought as Peter abruptly landed to the ground in front of her, immediately collapsing in a heap.

 

“Holy sh-!” he grimaced out, grabbing his ankle. He slid his back against the brick wall, his ankle tightly clasped in front of him.

 

“P-Spider-Man! What the hell?” She yelped in surprise, catching herself at the sight of him still fully clothed in his costume. She glanced around before kneeling in front of him, relieved that no one else was loitering in the alleyway near them.

 

“Shit, my ankle. Holy crap, that hurts,” Peter muttered from behind his mask.

 

“Yeah, no shit. You fucking jumped on it.” MJ leaned forward to try to get a better look. Unfortunately, all of the damage was covered by Peter’s hands.

 

“MJ? How did you get here so quickly?”

 

“I got here in thirty minutes,” she answered brusquely. That was so not the topic at hand. Peter really needed to get his priorities in order. “Now move your hands so I can see your ankle.”

 

Mechanical eyes blinked back at her. “No…I just…” he paused for a moment before looking down at the phone in his hand.

 

MJ looked down at the phone with him, thinking back to their most recent conversation. “Shit,” she muttered. “You totally spaced out again.”

 

“No,” he immediately rebutted, defensive. He shook his head once. “I mean…I don’t think I did…”

 

MJ leaned back so she was sitting on her feet. “We’ll talk about it later. Lemme see your ankle.”

 

Peter slowly moved his hands away from his boot. Underneath, his suit was torn showing the gleam of blood and a warped joint.

 

MJ breathed out through her teeth. “Yeah, you’re going to need to see a doctor.”

 

“What?” he exclaimed, as if the thought never entered his mind. “No, my enhanced healing will take care of it. I just need my clothes and help getting home.”

 

MJ casually gestured at the gaping wound. While she was never squeamish, dating a vigilante got her very used to the sight of blood. “I can see the bone. That means it’s probably broken.” 

 

Peter paused for a moment, swallowing. He lengthened his leg, placing the ankle directly in front of her. “Then set it,” he replied, his voice calm and resolute.

 

She stared back at him in disbelief. Leave it to Peter to still be able to surprise her two years into their relationship. “Yeah… I’m not going to do that.”

 

Peter hung his head in defeat. She could practically see him pout beneath the mask. “Karen, call Mr. Stark.”

 

-*-

 

“So, kid, what was it this time? Wait. Let me guess…a mutant human-alligator. A humagator.”

 

Peter chuckled from his spot on the hospital bed, his suit swapped out for a hospital gown. A few doctors were preparing a tray next to him to set the bone and place a cast. Tony and MJ were stationed at the foot of the bed, out of the doctors’ way.

 

MJ felt a seed of jealousy at the chuckle. Recently, she and Peter seemed to be barely hanging on, clutching to each other trapped in the middle of an emotional hurricane. She couldn't remember the last time she made Peter genuinely laugh. Tony had barely been in the room for five minutes and already Peter seemed much more at ease.

 

The man plowed on, “Or maybe a radioactive bee-man? With a poisonous stinger?”

 

Peter shook his head. “No, it was just a couple jewelry thieves.”

 

Tony frowned at that, clearly disappointed. “Hmm. You’re getting boring in your old age.”

 

“Still half your age, grandpa.” His smile turned into a flinch when a doctor lightly probed his ankle.

 

“Yet, the glory of my battles is undeniable.” He complemented the statement by holding up his hands in a god-like manner.

 

MJ fought the urge to roll her eyes.

 

Thankfully, the doctor prodding Peter’s ankle interrupted the pair. “We need to reset the bone before the hematoma block wears off.”

 

“Will it be strong enough?” MJ asked, concerned about shifting the bone without proper local anesthesia.

 

“It’s the strongest we have,” the doctor answered her question while looking at Peter reassuringly.

 

Peter nodded in return. “Okay, I’m ready.”

 

MJ could easily see the bone shift as it was snapped into place. She cringed away. The sound of the movement was so much louder than she was expecting.

 

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and let out a low grunt, pushing his back against the bed.

 

“That was it,” the doctor encouraged. “All over. We just need a minute to put the cast on.”

 

MJ moved to the head of the bed to be closer to Peter. He blinked his eyes open and panted through the last remnants of pain, sweat quickly forming on his brow. She placed a hand on his forehead to wipe it away.

 

Peter continued to blink uncomprehendingly at the white ceiling. “It’s okay, Peter,” she soothed. “It’s over.” His eyes slid over at her voice but appeared to stare right through her. Cold dread curled in her stomach.

 

He lifted his head to look at the doctors working on his ankle. MJ noticed his hands clenching the sheet beside her. “Peter,” MJ tried again.

 

Peter’s breaths quickened in response, his eyes locked on the doctors and their white coats. “No…no…get away,” he murmured. His feet scrambled against the bed, his broken ankle swollen and angry with the movement.

 

“Shit,” Tony breathed. He quickly moved in front of the doctors, pushing them away from Peter’s leg, cast half finished. “MJ! Get back!” Large iron gauntlets molded over his arms.

 

MJ jumped backwards just as Peter attempted to throw himself out of the bed, caught short by Tony’s hands against his shoulders.

 

Tony positioned himself in front of Peter’s face, completely blocking out the doctors from his field of vision. “Peter, it’s Tony. …It’s Mister Stark.”

 

Peter blinked up at him, eyes wide and chest heaving. “S-stop…I-I don’t…”

 

“You’re in the med bay. Peter, you are not there. You are with me. You’re safe.” Each word came out smooth and calm, almost following a gentle melody. “Here. Hold my hand. Feel the gauntlet. No one else has one like it.”

 

Peter robotically gripped the hand offered to him. Swallowing his breath, his eyes stared at the hand before looking back at the man in front of him.

 

MJ blinked in surprise. Tony Stark was shockingly good at this. She felt like she should be taking notes if it wasn’t for the fact she was having a hard time catching her breath herself.

 

Tony’s other hand gently squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “That’s it. You’re here. With me. In the med bay.” He repeated the words until Peter’s breaths gradually slowed and he seemed to blink consciousness back into himself. Tony looked up and reached his spare hand towards her. “Can you hand me that water over there?”

 

MJ silently passed the paper cup to the outstretched hand.

 

“Here drink this,” Tony, guiding the cup to Peter’s hands. He tentatively took the cup and took a sip.

 

She took it as a good sign the cup didn’t crumple in his hands.

 

Tony knelt down, keeping one hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You back with me?”

 

Peter silently nodded over the cup.

 

“Can I hear it?” Tony pushed a bit further.

 

“Yeah, I’m here,” Peter murmured, “I’m sorry.” His pale face quickly flushed, tinging his cheeks pink.

 

“Don’t be. Happens to the best of us, kid.”

 

Suddenly, MJ started to understand Peter’s admiration for Tony Stark.

 

-*-

 

Later, after May was called with promises that they would be back the following morning and Peter was fast asleep, MJ and Tony sat side by side next to the bed. They both refused to leave the Medical Bay, despite the other’s reassurances that it would be fine.

 

Tony passed a family size bag of Doritos her way. “Want some?”

 

MJ reached in and grabbed a handful. Dinner of champions.

 

She polished off a few chips before holding the rest loosely in her lap. “What _was_ that?”

 

“A flashback,” he immediately answered, as if he was expecting the question.

 

MJ thought of the way Peter scrambled and pleaded. Chills went down her spine. “To _what?_ ”

 

“To when he was trapped in the lab. He was like that when we found him.” Tony continued to stare straight ahead, his face surprisingly devoid of his aviator glasses. MJ wasn’t sure when he had removed them.

 

“Oh…” MJ looked down at the chips, no longer feeling hungry. A strange itch suddenly erupted deep within her chest, exactly where her scar was, almost like the bullet was still lodged in there. Out of pure stubbornness, she forced herself to not scratch. “He never talks about it.”

 

Tony made a slight noise of disapproval. She supposed it would be a bit hypocritical for him to voice it. While she didn’t know the man well, he didn’t seem like the heart-to-heart type.

 

“Did you ever find out who it was?” It was something that bothered her since it happened. There was the constant nagging fear that something like it could happen again. Some days it was easy to ignore but others it seemed to blare in the background, almost like she had her own ‘spidey sense’. Those days seemed to have increased in their frequency lately. She had assumed lack of sleep had something to do with it.

 

“H.Y.D.R.A,” Tony easily answered. “We knew almost immediately.”

 

If she had more energy, she would’ve been pissed. Months had gone by and the Avengers never thought to share that bit of information. Then again, she wasn’t sure if Peter knew. They didn’t talk about it. With everything else going on in their life, she never found the right moment to bring it up. Maybe she was just as bad as Peter.

 

She ate a chip in silence. Resigned, she glanced sideways at the man. “Are they still out there?”

 

“There’s no evidence of it.” Tony looked at her for the first time in what seemed to be hours. “Honestly? Probably. They’re like cockroaches.” He lifted his hand and paused for a moment before awkwardly patting her leg. “Don’t worry. That’s what the Avengers are for.”

 

MJ nodded. The news didn’t fill her with dread like she thought it would. She looked back at Peter peacefully resting in front of them. Eating the last few chips and then wiping the orange dust on her jeans, she grabbed Peter’s hand and held it in her own. She hoped the day’s events didn’t follow him to his subconscious.

 

Tony broke the calm silence. “So…I take it this doesn’t happen often.”

 

MJ could hear the tinge of hope in his voice. She stared at Peter; she didn’t want to see the man’s face when she disappointed him. “No, but it’s getting worse…” she paused for a moment, considering her next words carefully. “I think he needs help.”

 

“Say no more.”

 

MJ breathed out a sigh of relief.

 

-*-

 

The following week, MJ and Peter were seated at his apartment eating the lasagna they found in the freezer. MJ started dinner talking about her Amnesty International meeting, but the conversation faded away when Peter didn’t participate much beyond a murmur and a nod. Unfortunately, the behavior wasn’t too surprising, though it was a bit odd since he spent the previous day in Stark’s lab.

 

Peter despondently pushed a noodle around on his plate. “So…Mr. Stark thinks I’m going crazy.”

 

MJ looked up at that, eyebrows raised. “Were those his exact words?” She hoped they weren’t, especially after how he was able to talk Peter back from his flashback, but she didn’t know the man well enough to say for certain.

 

“No...” Peter muttered, putting his fork down, lasagna uneaten. “…but he gave me contact info for a therapist out of the blue. One that is supposedly well-versed with superheroes,” he looked back at MJ as if he proved his point.

 

MJ frowned. She wasn’t sure how she was expecting Peter to react to Tony’s ‘help’, but she had hoped he would be a bit more accepting of it. “That seems like a good thing. Don’t you think it may help?” Peter looked down and shrugged his shoulders. She pursed her lips at the forlorn response. “Are you going to give it a try?”

 

“Doesn’t it seem…I just…” She waited patiently for Peter to find the words. “Don’t you think it will make me look weak to the others? I’m already the youngest.”

 

MJ slid her plate out of the way and leaned forward on her forearms. “The therapist specializes in superheroes, right?”

 

“Yeah…” he responded, uncertain.

 

“I don’t know a whole bunch of superheroes in New York, so don’t you think there’s a chance that your Avenger pals have seen them?” MJ reasoned. And moments like that was why she rocked the debate team in high school.

 

“That’s fair.” Peter relaxed his shoulders, but he still didn’t seem convinced.

 

Figuring the discussion was nearing its end, she picked her fork and slid her plate back in front of her. “I think you should go,” she stated before taking a bite.

 

He looked back at her. “Then I think you should go too.”

 

She grimaced at the thought, the lasagna suddenly turning sour. “I don’t need-“

 

“You don’t need it?” he interrupted, eyebrows raised. “MJ, have you looked at yourself recently? You are completely worn out. I’ve been half afraid you’re going to fall asleep at the table. When was the last time you’ve gotten a full night’s sleep?”

 

She leaned back and crossed her arms. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not a superhero.” Checkmate.

 

Peter mirrored her position. “I’m not going unless if you go.”

 

 _Dammit._ MJ narrowed her eyes at his power move. She would’ve laughed at the absurdity of it all if she had the energy. “Fine,” she grumbled, picking up her fork again even though she had no interest in finishing dinner. Peter relaxed and took a bite from his own plate. She looked back up at him and narrowed her eyes. “You’re a real butthead sometimes,” she smirked, only half-joking.

 

Peter chuckled in response.

**-*-**

Less than a week later MJ found herself sitting on a leather armchair in a beige room.  She thought about Peter in the waiting room, foot likely tapping anxiously as he waited for his own session.

 

She stared back at the maternal-looking woman watching her, pen poised and ready, and let out a long sigh. God, she hoped this worked.

 

“So, I’ve been having these nightmares…”

 


	6. Where I'm Meant to Be

 

When MJ started dating Peter Parker, she knew she wasn’t signing up for a typical teenage relationship. She expected the awkwardness and stilted conversations that came from being with someone with no prior relationship experience. She had expected the late night emergencies and random no shows that came from dating a secret superhero. She had even expected the devotion and sincerity that was so natural to Peter it seemed to be written in his DNA. Honestly, it was the last one that probably scared her the most in the beginning.

 

One thing she didn’t expect was to be wined and dined at a five star restaurant overlooking Niagara Falls. Call her crazy, but it just didn’t seem like something a boy from Queens with a single “parent” would be able to pull off. Unfortunately, she sorely underestimated the role Tony Stark had in Peter’s life.

 

When Peter first called her with the exciting news, he was so eager to take Tony up on his offer he had seemed to have forgotten that colleges didn’t tend to cancel class on Valentine’s Day, which left her with the fun task of being the wet blanket.

 

MJ had secretly hoped that that was going to be the end of it. She had never been to the Falls, but she also didn’t have much of an interest in fumbling her way through a luxurious vacation. It sounded nice on paper, but she was keenly aware that any place Tony Stark picked would be full of old, white business men with their escorts looking at her and Peter like they were scum. She sometimes truly envied how oblivious Peter could be.

 

The following day an early morning call gleefully informed her that _“Mr. Stark”_ had changed it to March when they were on spring break, and _“isn’t he the best?!”_

 

She was fairly positive Peter believed her response of “That’s so awesome. I can’t wait,” while she slowly pounded her head against the wall.

 

A few hours later, her phone brought her the second surprise of the day when it lit up with an incoming call from ‘Stark’. Her first thought was _PETER’S HURT_ in big, flashing letters, screaming at her to grab the phone and run out the door towards the compound. But it was quickly pushed away when the other side of her brain reminded her that Peter was at Empire State, attending two classes and a lab that afternoon. While the boy was a genius, he still had to go to class every once in a while.

 

“Hello?” she greeted, leaning back in her chair.

 

_“Hey there, Mary Jane.”_

MJ pinched the bridge of her nose with her finger and thumb. She appreciated everything Tony Stark had done for Peter, but it didn’t negate that in general she found the man’s arrogance a bit difficult to swallow. “Mr. Stark, you know that is not my name.”

 

_“And you know I don’t like it when you kids call me Mr. Stark. Makes me feel like my dad…ugh.”_

He overemphasized the last sound. MJ’s eyebrows furrowed. While she didn’t have many interactions to base it off of, there was something off about the man today. He had never called her directly before and now he was bantering with her like it was a common occurrence. “Fine…Tony.” she replied.

_“MJ,”_ he answered, drawling out each letter.

 

She waited a few moments, ignoring the questions she had swirling around her brain. Best if he showed his hand first. When nothing was forthcoming, she offered, “…You called me.”

 

 _“Oh…yeah.”_  The response was delayed and drawn out. Faintly, she could hear a slight clinking in the background.

 

MJ quickly recognized the sound as ice sliding around in a glass. “Are you drunk?” she asked her voice neutral and non-judgmental. At least that would explain the absurdity of the phone call. She checked the time on her laptop. She supposed there were worse things than drinking at four p.m. on a weekday.

 

 _“No…”_ Tony responded as if the question offended him.

 

MJ let her silence speak for itself.

 

_“…That’s not the point. I was wondering how the kid was doing.”_

She paused to consider the peculiarity of Stark’s drunken impulse. Most people called their exes, but Tony Stark called his mentee’s girlfriend to find out about his well-being. It would have been sweet if it wasn’t the most emotionally stunted thing she had ever encountered.

 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she genuinely asked. The two had just seen each other a few days ago, and their time together in the lab had been much more consistent as of late. Ironically, Stark had stopped sporadically cancelling their lab time around the same time Peter had started therapy. While she didn’t believe Peter had put two and two together, she had realized it almost immediately with a growing appreciation for the billionaire.

 

It still wasn’t enough to make her disclose information on Peter’s behalf.

 

 _“You know how he is_ …” His voice abruptly changed an octave to two higher, “’ _I’m fine. No need to worry about me, Mr. Stark.’.”_

 

MJ quickly brought up her hand to cover her snorts of laughter.

 

 _“His aunt says he’s sleeping better,”_ Tony supplied, as if knowing he had already talked with May would encourage her to divulge.

 

She rolled her eyes at the weak attempt. Tony getting information from his aunt was way different than getting information from his girlfriend. Tony and May were on the same level, looking after Peter in some type of guardian role. But she and Peter were each other’s peer. They needed to look out for each other first and foremost. “I’m not sure what you want me to say,” she truthfully replied. ~~~~

_“The truth. How’s the therapy going? I’m still getting invoices regularly…”_

 

A thought jumped to the forefront of her mind that she had never considered before. It lodged itself there, impossible to ignore. Tony Stark recommended the therapist…and paid the therapist. The two were obviously quite connected, maybe even talking outside of their sessions. He was obviously invested in knowing about Peter’s progress, which meant… MJ’s heart sank to her stomach.

 

“You don’t read our files or anything, do you?” MJ asked. Her mind whirled with the implications. She had pushed Peter to go. Peter almost definitely talked about things, Skip-related things, in the session that he would never, ever want Tony to know. If… _if_ those things were discovered, it would most definitely be her fault. MJ felt bile rise.

 

_“No! God, no. That would be a HIPPA nightmare.”_

 

She sank into her chair with relief. Endorphins rushed through her brain, eerily reminiscent of the feeling she got after watching Peter fight and defeat a random foe.

 

Unaware of MJ’s emotional rollercoaster, Tony prompted, _“So…how is he?”_

“Good. We’re good,” she offered.

 

  _“You’re ‘good’?”_ Tony repeated back, incredulous. _“That’s all I get? Jeez, you’re as bad as the kid.”_

MJ’s eyes narrowed. Fine, she could divulge a bit more intel, if he was so desperate. “Well, _my_ nightmares are much more manageable. I can even make it through a night without sleeping pills. And that stupid, nagging sensation that followed me throughout the day is pretty much gone,” she casually replied, even though she knew it wasn’t her he was asking about.

 

_“…and Peter?”_

“He’s doing better. Anything else you need to ask him yourself. I’m not encouraging this backdoor communication thing you got going on between the two of you. I have a hard enough time getting Peter to open up to me, without throwing you into the mix.” She bluntly replied. She almost wished she could be a fly on the wall to see Stark’s attempt at a heart-to-heart and Peter’s floundering responses.

 

MJ could practically hear the man rub his forehead through the phone. _“You really know how to be a stubborn pain in the ass when you want to be.”_

 

She felt a strange sense of pride at the words. “That’s why you like me…Or don’t like me. I don’t care,” she deadpanned in return.

 

_“Maybe one day some of that spunk will rub off on Peter.”_

 

“I’d like to think it already has.”

 

 _“Well, you’ve been completely unhelpful.”_ She could tell by his levity that he was unbothered by it. _“Talk to you later.”_

“Tony-“ she quickly called out.

 

 _“Yeah, MJ,”_ he replied. She wasn’t sure how he could make her name sound ironic.

 

“Thank you…by the way,” she said, hoping the sincerity came across. She honestly didn’t know where the she and Peter would be if it wasn’t for the man’s generosity. And while she wasn’t going to repay the debt in secret favors, she did want him to know how much it was appreciated.

 

_“No problem, kid. Enjoy the Falls.”_

 

She blinked at the sound of the dial tone. _Shit._ She had forgotten about the trip over the course of the conversation.

 

MJ laid her head down on her desk and willed the day to be over.

 

-*-

 

A month later she found herself sitting across Peter in a restaurant whose name she couldn’t pronounce, wearing a borrowed cocktail dress, looking over the Niagara Falls.

 

She tried her best to ignore the occasional sideways glances from neighboring tables as she puzzled over the drink menu. She never had an opportunity to pick an alcoholic drink before. Being an underage college student, when she drank, it was typically whatever was available. But Ontario had a drinking age of nineteen, leaving her with two pages of options to pick from.

 

“Um…” she stalled as she sneaked a peak up at the server. “Sorry, which ones are the white wines?” Weren’t menus supposed to have labels for things like that? She was planning on ordering fish, and the only thing she did know about any type of alcohol related pairing was white went with fish and red went with beef. God, she was probably making such a fool of herself.

 

“The ones on the left,” the server helpfully supplied. “May I recommend our house Pinot Gris? Or if you are looking for something a bit more-“

 

“No, no,” MJ him cut off, “that sounds fine.” She gratefully sighed and closed the menu.

 

“I’ll have a Johnnie Walker Black on the rocks,” Peter ordered with self-assuredness that MJ definitely did not feel. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. Unaware, the waiter nodded appreciatively before walking away.

 

“Scotch? Really?” she questioned.

 

Peter immediately lost his false sense of confidence, quickly leaning forward. “What? I thought it was something an affluent man would order…is it not?”

 

“No, no. It definitely is,” she assured.

 

“Oh good,” Peter sighed, leaning back. “Mr. Stark said I should give it try. Actually he told me to get the blue, but those prices were insane!”

 

MJ didn’t know whether to smile or roll her eyes. She was glad that Tony Stark hadn’t sunk his claws in so far that Peter lost all sense of self. She knew she should be grateful; after all, the man was paying for their entire trip. But before the phone conversation, she only had a few encounters with the billionaire, and it always seemed to be when there was some type of crisis. Sometimes it was hard to think of him as a person and not some omniscient being with deep pockets.

 

“Actually, speaking of Mr. Stark, I have some really exciting news.”

 

Regardless of the topic, MJ couldn’t help but smile in response to the huge grin on Peter’s face. Despite her best efforts, his positivity was infectious. “Yeah?” she prompted before taking a sip of water, trying to appear more aloof.

 

“Mr. Stark wants to give you an internship at Stark Towers!”

 

MJ’s eyes narrowed. “You want me to join a fake internship?”

 

“Well, no. Of course not. Mr. Stark was talking about actually starting something and your name came up,” he rushed out in one breath.

 

MJ raised her eyebrows in surprise. “And Tony is okay with that?”

“Yeah, it was his idea,” Peter easily responded, unaware of the conversation that took place the prior month.

 

She considered the proposal for a moment. An opportunity to work for Tony Stark. While there were definite pros to the idea, the thought didn’t sound very appealing. “I think I’m going to pass.”

 

Peter furrowed his brow and blankly stared back. “What? Why?” He paused for a millisecond before a look of comprehension passed over his face. “Oh! Don’t worry, it would pay really well.”

 

“Oh. I’m sure it would. But my soul cannot be bought."

 

“So…that’s a…no?”

 

“A resounding one.”

 

“But… _why?_ ” Peter squinted his eyes, clearly trying to process her answer.

 

MJ nonchalantly leaned back in the chair, hoping her relaxed nature would help the situation from escalating. Not that Peter would ever get angry, but it was a nice evening and she didn’t want the conversation to ruin it. “I’m studying biochemistry to cure diseases not to build and sell high-tech military weapons.”

  
“That’s not the only thing-“ Peter naively rebutted.

 

“Also,” she quickly interrupted, because her next sentence was crucial for Peter to understand, “And much more importantly, I don’t _want_ to. I have my own life at Columbia. One that I enjoy. I’m part of three different associations and a member of Amnesty International. And somehow I still find the time to make sure my boyfriend doesn’t get killed on a weekly basis.”

 

She looked back at Peter’s confused face. At least it wasn’t disappointed, just confused. Like he couldn’t imagine a world where someone wouldn’t want to work with the great Tony Stark.

 

MJ blew out her breath through puffed cheeks. She made eye contact with Peter and sincerely said, “You can tell Mr. Stark thank you for thinking of me but I respectfully decline.”

 

Peter smiled and relaxed in return. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.”

 

 She always thankful how much Peter seemed to appreciate honesty, even if it was something he didn’t want to hear. She was always crap at sugarcoating things anyway.

 

Luckily, the drinks arrived shortly afterward. Peter took one sip of his scotch and immediately grabbed his cloth napkin in an attempt to stifle the choking noises. Much to MJ’s amusement, his face was beet red as he swallowed the drink down. Chuckling, she grabbed her glass of wine and switched it with his scotch. Raising her eyebrows confidently, she took a small sip and schooled her face as it burned its way down her esophagus.

 

“My dad gave me scotch to celebrate my eighteenth birthday,” she explained over Peter’s coughs.

 

-*-

 

MJ was tipsy and horny by the time they made it back to their hotel room. Unbeknownst to Peter, she was wearing black lingerie under the cocktail dress. At first she felt ridiculous buying it and putting it on. She almost bailed and threw on her regular and much more comfortable bra and panties. But she felt slightly guilty about not being as excited about the trip as Peter, and she hoped having this surprise for him would get her more in the spirit of the event.

 

Also, if she was completely honest with herself, she secretly liked how the corset helped accentuate her breasts in the dress and hid the scar from the bullet wound. But that was a reason only half of her brain openly accepted. The other half pointed out society’s long history of dehumanizing women by systemically focusing on ‘key’ body features in advertizing and print. Luckily, alcohol did a really nice job shutting up that half of the brain. As the night wore on, her brain instead helpfully conjured brief images of her revealing the lingerie to Peter and ways he may react. The thoughts became quite distracting during dinner and made her eager to pay the bill.

 

When they finally entered the room, she immediately pulled Peter further in by his hand, only stopping when his body was flushed against hers. She slightly bent down and gave him a long kiss. It was a bit sloppier than she intended, but she had been waiting a long time for this moment and she was too impatient to try to be modest about it.

 

Straightening up, she smiled and bent her head down so some hair would fall in front of her face. That was another thing that she appreciated about Peter, he never seemed bothered that she was taller than him. It wasn’t much, but when she wore heels, which was almost never, it accentuated the fact.

 

She turned around so her back was facing Peter. “Could you help unzip me?” she asked as she moved her curly hair away from her back.

 

“Of course,” Peter eagerly responded, one hand already unzipping the dress.

 

MJ let the dress fall. Still wearing heels, she stepped out of it and turned around to face Peter’s stunned face. She almost started chuckling at how comical it was, but instead she looked down at the black corset and looked back up. “So, you like it?”

 

Peter nodded dumbly as he struggled to unbutton his own dress shirt.

 

MJ stepped forward, stilling his hands with her own. “Wait. Let me.” She slowly unbuttoned the shirt, occasionally glancing up towards Peter’s face as she worked her way down. Shirt removed, she made her way toward the king bed and lay down at the top leaning against the pillows. Smiling at her frozen boyfriend, she nodded seductively and patted the bed next to her.

 

“Awesome,” Peter breathed as he jumped across the room towards her. The distance would have been difficult for any other person to traverse in one leap, but Peter did it easily.

 

Peter climbed the bed towards her, only stopping when he was hovering directly over her body. “So…um…I take it you want to have sex?” he stuttered as his eyes travelled up and down her body.

 

MJ placed a hand on his bare shoulder to bring his attention back to her face. Once their eyes made contact, she said slowly and clearly, “Dear God, yes.”

 

“Awesome,” he repeated.

 

MJ chuckled into a kiss in response, bringing her body up to meet his. Once their lips touched, all amusement left their bodies leaving only a carnal desire. She quickly melted into his embrace as he slowly leaned her down back against the bed, pressing his body fully against hers. She broke away for a quick breath before moving to mouth his neck by his ear. Hearing his heavy pants in her own ear, she pushed her body up enthusiastically in response.

 

Making full use of the king size bed, they rolled from one side to the other, barely pausing for breath. Having so much space on a mattress was a luxury she honestly wasn’t used to between his bunk bed and her dorm room.

 

At some point in their tumbling and rolling, both of their bottoms had been removed, leaving her with the only corset and heels and Peter with nothing. She leaned over top of him, one thigh on his and kissed him longingly before making her way down to his chest by his heart. He found a firm grip on her bare hip just under the corset, his breath stuttering above her.

 

Peter suddenly stilled below her, prompting her to break away from his chest. She leaned back further when she saw the slightly detached look on his face. “You okay?” she whispered.

 

He turned his head to look at her, clarity seeping back into his eyes. “Yeah,” he exhaled and then slightly grimaced like it was an afterthought. “You’re just kind of crushing my thigh.”

 

She didn’t call him out on the obvious lie. She probably couldn’t hurt him even if she tried. But she trusted him to tell her if things got too bad to continue. Trauma wasn’t always nightmares and hot showers. Sometimes it crept up in the calm and safe moments too. Their relationship was seated firmly on bedrock made of Peter’s reluctant openness and MJ’s trust…and therapy. Lots and lots of therapy.

 

She slid over a few inches, removing most of her body weight from him. “That better?”

 

The freedom gave Peter the ability to roll on top of her and hover his lips a hairsbreadth away from hers. “Much,” he smiled as he leaned down for deep kiss. They easily fell back into the rhythm they had left. MJ kept her attention towards Peter’s top half, waiting a signal to go lower.

 

“God, Michelle,” he breathed.

 

She looked at him with intrigue, using her full name was a rarity in their relationship.

 

He brought a hand up and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, slowly moving it behind her ear. “You’re just so hot…”

 

MJ blinked in surprise. Of all the things she thought he was going to say, that didn’t even make the list.

 

Peter quickly continued, “and smart, of course. You’re so smart. And passionate, and amazing, and-“

 

MJ brought a finger up to his lips. “Shhh. That’s enough talking.”

 

Peter kissed her finger and smiled deviously, “Okay.”

 

_Oh no…_

 

MJ barely had a chance to finish the thought before Peter put his mouth to better use. The sudden simulation of her clit took her breath away.

 

Peter glanced up from in between her legs, eyebrows raised in question.

 

MJ frantically nodded for him to continue, reaching her hand up to press against the backboard. Luckily, Peter didn’t wait for verbal confirmation before burying his head back down. She closed her eyes and breathed into the movements, occasionally shifting her body to get better leverage. They moved together as if on one wavelength until she felt telltale sign of tension in her gut. Strong waves of ecstasy erupted through her body. MJ kept her eyes closed as she finished riding out the waves, soft moans escaping her mouth.

 

Finally, when her body relaxed against the mattress and awareness seeped back in, she lazily opened her eyes to see Peter hovering above her with a pleased look on his face.

 

She reached up and placed her hands on his shoulders. She pushed him over so she was straddling on top of him. She knew she could never physically overpower him without his permission but she still waited for a nod before lowering herself down on his aroused member.

 

She started off slow. It wasn’t long before he wrapped his hands around her hips and guided her to move faster. She leaned forward to hit her own spot, enjoying the second feeling of arousal. She continued the pace, gradually picking up speed when she felt his thighs tense beneath her. About halfway through, Peter sat up to meet her, their bodies intertwined. Eventually, Peter reached his own climax, tensing and loosening beneath her. Satisfied in more ways than one, she lazily rolled off him and slid down against his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

 

She easily smiled when she saw the content look on his face.

 

Yeah, maybe there were some things about her relationship with Peter she didn’t expect, but she wouldn’t change it for the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow, I think that’s finally it for this series. Honestly, I think there’s something wrong with me – I just devoted 9 months and 30,000+ words all from the POV of a character that got literally less than 3 minutes of screen time. 
> 
> Thank you so much for following me on the journey. What started as a one-shot turned into so much more, thanks to the support from you guys. Even though this series is done, kudos/comments still provide untold amounts of encouragement for me to write more in the fandom. Thank you!


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